8:30 pm, on the final day of 2012.

I’m on the edge of a tiny old quarry in Canada, witnessing a light-battle between the  blazing-hot fire pit and the mostly full moon. It plays out on the foot-deep snow around us – the perfect contrast of indigo and gold.

I have no words for this kind of beauty, and I don’t know much about anything, really.

Sometimes I get lucky enough to turn a musical phrase really well, so none of us ever forget.  Sometimes I know how to be quiet and wait and really listen.

So many cliffs.  But I think we will figure it out.

2013 – be well.

our garden

our garden

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