Friday Ramble - Last of the Year

It seems appropriate to end this calendar year in sunshine, a single beam of pale winter sunlight falling across the Clyde river in the Lanark highlands. Ice and snow are slow in forming at this bend, for the river is an old one, and her currents run fast and free. She is a wild goddess, a veritable crone among rivers, and she is not the slightest bit intimidated by winter weather and subzero temperatures - she will resist freezing over for as long as she is able to draw breath and taunt the season with her impetuous winding ways.

On the coldest day of the year, I can stand here and listen as the river sings her way along under the ice, and she often seems to be singing a duet with the wind. There's a kind of Zen counterpoint between the two wild voices, two unbridled entities utterly independent in their contours and rhythm, but meticulously interwoven and seamless in their soaring harmonies. Putting all notions of complex orchestration and liquid choreography aside, there's lovely music in the air on these icy winter days.

The sound of moving water has always been a leitmotif for me, and I often think that life can be measured in rivers and currents rather than cocktails, jewelry, pairs of shoes and coffee spoons. The thought of my dear little river in the highlands singing her way along under the ice is always a joy and a comfort, and it seems right to be in this place on the last day of the year.

In springtime, I have sat here and watched as the river overflowed her banks and published her claim to the fertile fields on both sides. In early summer, I have counted bales of hay, photographed deer and wild turkeys feeding along the shoreline, watched the sun go down over the trees. Once I sat here and cried my eyes out after learning that one of the people I love best in this whole world had passed beyond the fields we know, and again a few days later when my darling Cassie traveled across the Rainbow Bridge. One autumn not so long ago, I parked myself here for hours and tried to collect my thoughts when an imperative medical treatment stopped working. True to form, I was not really worried about expiring (I knew I would be back in some form or other), but I felt as if I was going round the bend from the stress of it all and was sure I would pass away as mad as a hatter. The river worked her magic, and I am still here of course, but it could be reasonably argued that I remain more than a little peculiar.

Happy New Year, and thank you for sharing the journey with me this year. May there be joy and health and abundance in your life this coming year. May all good things come to you!