And I was wondering HOW the word WEATHER would work into my year a few short weeks back. (see THIS post).

I wrote that blog late on the 31st, and posted it before work on the 1st. And after work, I felt the need to go and take some photos, looking for some broken glass for a photo challenge. I found my way finally, at the foot of the hill in Ettrick, near the Appomattox River, and as I wandered, a decision to record this part of the river over the course of the year came to me. Huh. Weather, and changing seasons and this small bit of land.

I wrote, too, of the best resolution I had heard, that of my father, whose resolution was to stay out of the hospital this year. Didn’t know at that moment that he had basically been planning a sit-in (lay-in?) on the couch.

I got the call on Tuesday morning, the 4th, while I was back at the river, a frozen day that I figured I better record while I had the chance, as Virginia winters are not stable.  Dad passed away on the couch early that morning. Gotta give him props for sticking to a resolution. I’m glad he went that way, without bright lights and noise and people pushing, prodding and beating on him. In death, as in life, he ran things his way.

But, the weathering part—This January, all three and a half weeks, has been tough to weather for so many people I care about. A high school friend lost her mother. My oldest friend (from before I understood the word, FRIEND) lost her mother. A quilting friend lost her daughter. A writing friend lost two of her horses, just days apart. A work friend is on watch, her already weak and ill dad having just had a stroke.

And then Tucson; and so many cities around this country this month are suffering the loss of police officers—it seems so many were killed in the line of duty this month. Weathering the storm indeed. It’s not the snow or the wind or the rain that seems to be the thing right now.

Today would be Daddy’s 66th birthday. I have a box that Jan sent; I asked her for a few of his flannel shirts. The box sits, unopened. Maybe I will find the courage to open it today.