The first word on a piece of blank paper. The first brushstroke on a canvas.  How important this firstness:   first impressions, first grade, first born.  First to finish captures the prize! First!  I was first!  First love, first kiss, first snowfall.  First to wear red!  First to wear blue!

First to turn tail, I run straight into the waiting curvy arm of number two where the making of mandatory resolutions has become moot.  The appropriate ritual foods have been eaten.  The horns have been tooted, the song has been sung and I am freed from the holidays.  How lovely to return to a day.  An ordinary, non-compulsory type of day.  A day I own.  What riches in this second day which is no day in particular.  How sweet to wake into a morning unmarked.

The weather turned her hand to foggy rain today.  Warmish for the season.  Filled with birds at the feeder, sleepy cats and hot cups of tea.  How can such ordinariness feel so terribly luxurious? The most exciting news of the day is that something has dug a largish cave into the western hillside.  I am most eager to see who exactly it might be.

Also, we had a sinkhole down by the barn.  Filled in now but watchable, very.