January 6. Epiphany. 12th day of Christmas. Celebrating light. Of course, a photographer finds excitement in this day.

The hymn writer Brian Wren expressed his enthusiasm with the following words:

"The dancing air shall glow with light, and sun and moon give up their place,   

when love shines out of every face, our good, our glory, and delight." 

Carl P. Daw, Jr wrote this lyric to one of his hymns:

"O day of peace that dimly shines through all our hopes and prayer and dreams,

guide us to justice, truth, and love, delivered from our selfish schemes,

May swords of hate fall from our hands, our hearts from envy find release,

till by God's grace our warring world shall see Christ's promised reign of peace."

Epiphany is a day of light, and wonder, and hope, and promise. Last year, as I "zoomed" with my ministry colleagues in Illinois and Wisconsin, I was filled with bright enthusiasm on January 6. But, as we all remember the events at the US Capitol, the day turned dark. I have enough experience and training with group dynamics to fearfully predict that this loud crowd could become an out-of-control mob that threatened our Constitutional processes. As I watched the events on live television of a mob assaulting police officers and breaking windows and threatening members of Congress, I was horrified. I was watching a nightmare. 

January 6 was not the only dark day of 2021. I had my own. Many others throughout the year experienced grief, sorrow, fear. 

Darkness does not speak the final word. The smallest glimmer of light chases the dark away. I am a person of faith who believes in Light. Epiphany is the rehearsal every year of the conviction that God has entered our human history in Christ Jesus with the intention to save us all. Darkness never conquers Light. Never.

So, after the twelfth day of Christmas, we take down our decorations. I want to leave them up. I want to continue the celebration.

Another hymn I love was composed by Kathleen Thompson: "I want to walk as a child of the light. I want to follow Jesus. God set the stars to give light to the world. The star of my life is Jesus. (chorus) In him there is no darkness at all. The night and day are both alike. The Lamb is the light of the city of God. Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus." 

The adventure on New Year's Day began with sharp knives and lots of chopping.

Four heads of cabbage, giant carrots, celery, onions, bean thread vermicelli, and three pounds of pork sausage mixed in a large bowl.

Seasoned and mixed in a gigantic bowl.

Then a small portion is spooned out on a square of spring roll pastry, and the pastry is folded to seal the ends, and becomes the roll. I think it takes lots of practice to create consistently sized, snug spring rolls.

Ready for frying in hot oil. We brought home 16 cooked, 48 uncooked, and about a pound of filling. Grateful for our neighbor's willingness to teach us how to create fabulous spring rolls.

The weather was more springlike, than that of a winter's day. The latter part of December had been unseasonably warm. I had even taken advantage of the warm days to heat up the spa on two different evenings. But I was most surprised as we walked in the rain to our neighbors' house to see narcissus blooming along their driveway. I stopped quickly for a shot under my umbrella. Could it be a hint of an early spring?

No. Three inches of snow covered our deck by Monday morning, less than 36 hours later. And although the snow was wet and beautiful for a few hours, I prefer the white blooms of the obviously premature announcement of an early spring.

Sony A7r4, Zeiss 24-70 f/2.8; exposure details iso 1600, f/2.8 @1/2000 sec

I'm ready, too. Covid and cancer has limited our travel. But we are fully vaccinated, including boosters, and there's no evidence of cancer in my recent PET scan. I continue to be amazed that the lymphoma is gone. The chemo and radiation was a lengthy, tiring treatment, but apparently it worked. I will continue to have alternating PET and CT scans and blood tests every quarter for the next two years, but it looks like I am cured. So I am trying to regain strength and lose weight after treatment. Normalcy is returning. Not quite the same normal as before. I'm changed, different, as are so many experiences. But I am more than ready to explore again, embrace life and friends again.

I caught this bee in mid-takeoff the other morning on one of my walks with my my iPhone 12 Pro Max. Surprised at the quality of the image.

After yesterday's lament for a longer summer, I read an article in the Washington Post entitled "Our Summers Are Getting Longer, And It Could Be a Bad Sign for the Environment". I admit that I was being self-centered about wanting more days to swim in my pool. I tried to justify that it would help my recovery from cancer treatments. However, I don't want my desire for more summer days to contribute to global warming. I know I have enough bad habits, coupled with millions of other inhabitants of earth, that have already adversely affected the environment. The Washington Post article, written by Kasha Patel, noted that "summers are expanding while spring, autumn, and winter are becoming shorter and warmer..." Researchers have found by studying historical data that spring is beginning earlier and autumn later. The problem is that " small seasonal shifts can throw off the balance of our ecosystem form crop production to increased occurrence of mosquito-borne diseases." With my experience of being mosquito "bait", that sentence got my attention. What we are losing is the predictability of the seasons and the connectedness of our human experiences with plants and animals and other creatures, like bees, that benefit the quality of our lives.

So I take back my desire for more summer, with all of its creeping effects, like the image above. Our seasons are not just an opportunity for change to warmer clothing and appreciation for cider and pumpkins, but are an essential cycle. We all can live with that.

Autumn begins today, but I could use a little more summer. I had just begun to regain some strength after my cancer treatments. I was swimming 2/3 of a mile per day and walking more than a mile. I could use a little more summer, please.

My last swimming day was September 16 which is early for the Hideaway. Two years ago my last swimming day outdoors was October 5. I need some more summer. My recovery is just getting started and more summer would help.

I admit that I like autumn as do so many others. A woman who had her wagon filled with fall plants and decorations at Fast's Greenery told me she had taken the day off from work so she could get started on autumn. I understand that. I love fall color and cooler temperatures. I hope to travel some after my oncologist gives me good news on Monday. Fall can be wonderful!

I just wasn't finished with summer. Mine was too short. My summer didn't really start until mid-August with my recovery. Sure, autumn will be great, and I will get stronger each day. I'd just like some more summer.

August was a wet month. On the very last day of the month, the remnants of Hurricane Ida dropped more than 3 3/4 inches on the Hideaway. August ended as it had begun with a day of rain on the 1st totaling 4 1/2 inches. More than 11 inches of rain for the month. 

Our neighbor, Mr. Do, stopped to talk while we were gardening the next day. His two dogs were missing. They get out of his fenced-in yard occasionally, but they never venture far. He asked Judy to check on the internet, and a short time later she saw the dogs picture on Next Door Neighbor. Someone had found the dogs on the road west of us. A quick reunion occurred as the finder returned the lost dogs. 

The next day, Mr. Do rang our doorbell and had a huge basket with potatoes, twice the amount in the photo above, to thank Judy for her help in finding the dogs. Because of the Afghan airlift that shared the news with Ida, I asked if Mr. Do had come to the US at the fall of Saigon. No, he had worked with the CIA for 10 years because he knew the Laotian, Thai, and Vietnamese. They taught him English. He, his wife, and one year-old son was flew out of the country about 6 weeks before the end of the war. He spent 15 minutes telling us of his experience in settling here and the challenges that he faced. Quite a story. My neighbors have stories of being refugees. My Kurdish neighbor, Gelil, spent three years in a tent with his family in a refugee camp in Turkey before they all were loaded into a truck for an all day journey to an airport. My Laotian neighbor escaped the communists by paddling across the Mekong River in the middle of the night during a driving rainstorm. I have received generosity and hospitality from each of them. My neighborhood is more like the real USA than any place I have ever lived. What a blessing it is to hear their stories about why they are Americans.

I hate this sign because I don't like the words or the meaning behind the words. I am tempted to vandalism.

Someday I will attack! I've thought about it entirely for too long because I know what I will do: Change the "D" to an "R" and the "E" to an "O" so that "DEAD" becomes "ROAD". and add an "S" to "END". Road Ends. Waller Road is a cul-de-sac just beyond our driveway. The road ends, there is no outlet, turn around. We don't live on a dead end!

I'm having the same problem with my treatments now that I'm done. I'm not finished for I have more scans at the end of September and another appointment with my oncologist at which I presume I will receive an outline of my after-care. I know from previous conversations that I will meet with my oncologist every three months for the next two years, with additional scans. So I'm done, but I'm not done.

And my wondering about words was even stimulated about the discussion in Sunday School about "pilgrimage". Who goes on a pilgrimage and for what purpose? Doesn't it have to be an intentional choice? Does there have to be a destination? My experience with my cancer was not a pilgrimage, although I may have grown spiritually. I'm just wondering.

So