I’ve enjoyed the very customized compilations on other blogs, of images and stories from the year just behind us. In attempting my own collection, I found it hard to choose just one picture from each month, of those already in my blog files. But as the year went…
In January, this fellow exercised himself very impressively to get at my suet feeder:
In February, I received a Valentine cookie gift from Colorado grandchildren. ❤
In March, my potted tarragon sprang up:
In April, a hike to the beach with family:
In May, our book group drank goat milk and ate goat cheese (yes, and pizza) while discussing Heidi:
In June, my garden bathed in the sunshine:
In July, I watched the rain from the porch of Kate’s Washington, D.C. home:
In August, I continued my (seeded) sourdough experiments:
In September, I played with my great-granddaughter at her uncle’s wedding:
In October, I went exploring in the woods with Pippin’s family:
In November, the zinnias kept blooming and blooming…
And in the last month of the year, my soul was filled by the Christ Child:
I was first introduced to this poem by Dr. Oliver Tearle, on his expansive website Interesting Literature; he says it is little-known as a New Year’s poem. Twice before I posted a few lines of it, but this time I am sharing the whole thing. Usually I only like short poems, but this one is like a song that wants to be sung through all the verses, until the repetitions of “passing away, passing away” are completed, and finally, “Lo, it is day.”
OLD AND NEW YEAR DITTIES
New Year met me somewhat sad: Old Year leaves me tired, Stripped of favourite things I had Baulked of much desired: Yet farther on my road to-day God willing, farther on my way.
New Year coming on apace What have you to give me? Bring you scathe, or bring you grace, Face me with an honest face; You shall not deceive me: Be it good or ill, be it what you will, It needs shall help me on my road, My rugged way to heaven, please God.
Watch with me, men, women, and children dear, You whom I love, for whom I hope and fear, Watch with me this last vigil of the year. Some hug their business, some their pleasure-scheme; Some seize the vacant hour to sleep or dream; Heart locked in heart some kneel and watch apart.
Watch with me blessed spirits, who delight All through the holy night to walk in white, Or take your ease after the long-drawn fight. I know not if they watch with me: I know They count this eve of resurrection slow, And cry, ‘How long?’ with urgent utterance strong.
Watch with me Jesus, in my loneliness: Though others say me nay, yet say Thou yes; Though others pass me by, stop Thou to bless. Yea, Thou dost stop with me this vigil night; To-night of pain, to-morrow of delight: I, Love, am Thine; Thou, Lord my God, art mine.
Passing away, saith the World, passing away: Chances, beauty and youth sapped day by day: Thy life never continueth in one stay. Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey That hath won neither laurel nor bay? I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay On my bosom for aye. Then I answered: Yea.
Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away: With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play; Hearken what the past doth witness and say: Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay: Watch thou and pray. Then I answered: Yea.
Passing away, saith my God, passing away: Winter passeth after the long delay: New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven’s May. Though I tarry wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray: Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day, My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say. Then I answered: Yea.
-Christina Rossetti, 1830-94
Christina Rossetti, by her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti
“Any one thinking of the Holy Child as born in December would mean by it exactly what we mean by it; that Christ is not merely a summer sun of the prosperous but a winter fire for the unfortunate.”
Let’s go see what Now is like outside. Let’s open the door look up at the sky feel the cold night air on our noses. Let’s look at our breath as we walk out to the street. Let’s look at how Now holds the moon in black branches, how stars shine down with a Now from long long ago, how they stare down on our Now which has coaxed them to wink at us. Let’s listen to the night sounds that rove the dark Now beneath the traffic. Let’s stop, look back into the Now at the end of the street; there is something there but I know it is behind us in a place called Then where our footprints have forgotten we ever made them.
Gladsome Lights 