Today is a new day and the first one of a new year. I’m going to be unashamedly optimistic about what lay in store for this year. I might think it, but I’m not going to utter negatives. Not yet anyway. Let’s give 2021 a chance, eh? It has inherited some bad shit, it has certainly got its work cut out. But let us go all in, and gamble on good news prevailing. I’m not deluded, I get that the good news isn’t likely til Spring, but I’m willing it to come. If I think it, maybe positive vibes will flow out of me, like light flowing out of the ends of Scott Bakula’s fingers when he jumped into another body in Quantum Leap in 1992. ‘Oh Boy’ indeed.
I walked in the snow today. Brown bits of grass poked through. Lichen, furring up the dry stone walls, glowed emerald in the Winter sun. At points on the stroll the light was majestic. The very air seemed blue. When the landscape turns white, its possible to see more shades of grey (lilac grey, blue grey, yellow grey) than I thought existed.
On that walk, surrounded by my little family and decrepit dog, it felt like a good day to be alive and feel thankful. And so I was, and I am.
Beryl's Adventures in Artland 