And so, 2010 fades into history and 2011 draws its first cold breath.
I’m sitting in a little log cabin on top of the hill at the Warren on an unseasonably warm New Year’s Eve. My amazing neighbors rent a corner of the place to me, and in the afternoons I climb the hill with my satchel, turn on the lamps, and get busy. I plan to spend a lot of time here in the coming months. I’m looking forward to the good, hard work of turning the stories and lyrics and pictures that fill my head like bees in a hive into books and poems and songs. Hopefully they’ll be more like honey than bee stings.
(Speaking of honey, I borrowed my dad’s bee boxes and plan to colonize them this spring. You may soon find for sale in the Rabbit Room little jars of organic honey bundled with the CDs. You may also see me in concert with weird little welts on my face.)
In some ways it’s been one of the best years I can remember, so packed with great memories, big events, bright little moments, long afternoons working the garden, touring with my best friends, watching my kids turn into who they are–and in other ways I can’t really tell the world about it’s been one of the hardest years of my life. I’ve felt blessed beyond measure and then felt kicked in the teeth. I suppose that’s how every year is in some measure, but this time the pendulum swung wider somehow. I thought it would be good to take stock, think long about what I’ve learned, and stride into 2011 with a steady eye on what matters. I just spent about two hours formatting the blog on my main website, so I hope you’ll forgive me just linking to that.