I expected a magical reset, but have found myself absolutely scuttled by... sadness? reality? the news? I don't even know anymore. But I miss my daily writing practice. If I'm going to be sad every day, could I at least not suffer from sameness?
Yesterday was Pongal, my favorite reset to the new year, but it was so grey and dreary, there wasn't even a glimpse of the sun. I guess I'll have to make my own sunshine this year.
But here's last year's picture of a dancing Huck and a sonnet, plus the prep and lead up and the Pongal before that.
Pic: Amaryllis (a gift from O.M.) blooming profusely and boldly like orbs in their own solar system.
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