Late New Year
A hawk perched for half an hour on the backdoor neighbor’s roof on NY eve. Just before midnight, I climbed Bernal Hill for the fireworks and found them partially blocked by one of the new high rises near the Bay Bridge.
Things in the air often surprise.
Per Petterson in Out Stealing Horses on the topic of New Year’s Eve:
In less than two months’ time this millennium will be finished. There will be festivities and fireworks in the parish I am part of. I shall not go near any of that. I will stay at home with Lyra, perhaps go for a walk down to the lake to see if the ice will carry my weight. I am guessing minus ten and moonlight, and then I will stoke the fire, put a record on the old gramophone with Billie Holiday’s vice almost a whisper, like when I heard her in the Oslo Colosseum some time in the 50s, almost burned out, yet still magic, and then fittingly get drunk on a bottle I have standing by in the cupboard. When the record ends I will go to bed and sleep as heavily as it is possible to sleep without being dead, and awake to a new millennium and not let it mean a thing. I am looking forward to that.