Old Thoughts for a New Year

The final sunset of 2012:

Well, it's where and when the sun would have set had their been any sun yesterday.  But I still felt inspired to capture that moment since I did the same a couple of years ago with my 2010-ending post, Dawn of a Brand New . . . ish . . . well . . . just another day, really, where I actually captured the last sunlight of the year.  That was a long, meandering reflection on the idea of New Year's resolutions with a vague one thrown in at the bottom.  A year ago, in Reflecting and Expecting, I did another post with a resolution of sorts; that post also mentioned how I'd had a busy year and was moving into an even busier 2012.  Which proved to be the case, as I just shared a couple of days ago in Retiring My 2012 Planner: Or, Looking Back Makes Me Tired.  So I think I'll let these pictures and those previous posts be my final thoughts about this being a new 2013, then I'll simply let it start being so.

Waking late and groggy this morning, I really wished I'd listened to part of my sentiment from two years ago; instead of staying up late to see the old year out, with it's non-sunset and gloom, I wish I'd woken early to today's brilliant sunshine to see the white, snowy world washed with the gleaming colors of the sunrise.  But I'm awake now and it's a beautiful day, so even though I was slow to greet it I'm going to enjoy the sunshine for all it's worth.  Watching Ted frolic in the snow while he attempts to "corner" a bluejay high in the trees above him makes me feel quite happy, after all.

And, after typing it, I'm not sure I ever gave another thought to my resolutionish intent from last year's post, so instead of coming up with something new I'm just going to let that one roll over into this year.  And I want to work more on my physical health.

A few more pictures from yesterday, when I went out to the park over my lunch break.  Sun or not, it was quite beautiful.  Looking out while hiding under a stand of dense, dry conifers:

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

I love all the black and white lines of the trees:

Berries:

Later, sitting on the couch in our dark house, looking through our big windows on the peaceful, snowy backyard, with a ghostly reflection of the Mrs. glowing in the light of her computer:

The snow is already falling off the trees in clumps and I'm worried the best of it will melt away before I can get out to somewhere adventurous and scenic to capture it, so a few quick, sunny shots from the back porch this morning:

Although, really, the sky was even clearer and the sun even brighter when I first stumbled out to the couch ninety minutes ago:

Ted under the apple tree, after the bluejay has flown away: