Yesterday I walked out over a frozen gravel road along Lake Champlain in Vermont. The sky was slightly overcast, adding some grey and violet to the watery blue and gold of an early setting sun. Over the fields brown, empty corn stalks poking up from the snow, framed by dark evergreens. The Green Mountains to the east showed up indigo, and the lake was a mercurial silver-grey. I blamed the dog for having forgotten my camera, and with my hands stuffed into my pockets, I reflected on the colors of this past year.
In March I left Vermont just before spring sprang, and flew to Manila. From Manila I went to Tacloban City, and from there to Boracay, then Vietnam, then back to Tacloban, then to every major (and many minor) islands in Leyte. From there to San Francisco, then Sonoma, then Vermont, which left me to a solo drive across the United States back to Nevada, then California again, then a quick trip to Port-au-Prince, then back to California and now, again, here in the quiet jewel tones of Vermont.
What an incredible world.