"There are years that ask questions, and years that answer"- Zora Neale Hurston
It was so familiarly warm today that I could almost be forgiven into mistaking it for spring. Maybe some early shad in the Delaware Bay felt its internal clock ticking and being pulled upward by some beautiful invisible thread of freshwater and swam, swam its way up the river in late December expecting blooming cottonwood and serviceberry and was met with disappointment in bare branches. I expect my own internal shad, one that feels so at home enveloped in the harmony of spring peepers, will encounter a similar disappointment. It seems funny, ending the year expecting disappointment, like an ill-fated way to start off such an important turning of a new river rock in the freestone of our lives. Yet, as of recent, I've decided to stop separating behaviors and feelings by calendar lines. I will be more spontaneous, more explosive!
My family and friends have long called me a "grinch" over my general distain for the Christmas holiday season. My hatred for Christmas music has become somewhat of a bit, which is alright with me. I just have some hesitations in celebrating holidays in neon and rampant consumerism beneath the watchful eyes some CocaCola-red secular deities.
Still, I felt compelled to participate in some way. So I went down to the woods near my house and carefully cut a few six foot sections of wild grape vine, along with some boughs of white pine, cedar, and alder. I fashioned a wreath in my garage that smelled deeply of wintery conifers, and hung it welcomingly outside my door.
My first fish of 2025 and my last of 2024 were both river walleyes. I ended the year exploring the Delaware around the Lehigh Valley, coming across some very strange sacrificial structures and fascinating river characters, explored for about 5 hours whilst throwing ghostly muskie plugs and with nothing to show for it. Soon met up with Kyle downstream as the sun was going down and caught a small male as soon as I switched to walleye fishing. A few casts later, and I had a 26 inch fish up on the bank.
My first fish of the year came on New Year's Day, I believe the first time this has happened to me. I choose to take as a sign of good fortune to come. It was a scrappy, about 15 inch male walleye that hit a swimbait in some steadily rising canal lock.
The other afternoon was spent with some old friends in the Philadelphia Art Museum, a hulking pillared structure more famous for its stairs, winding by the lazy Schuylkill River. A piece of canvas lathered in the likeness of a nighttime farm field covered in snow with indifferent stars blinking above. My first thought was of the striking resemblance it bore to one of my favorite star-gazing spots in Central Pennsylvania, a spot where I've spent countless waking minutes looking heaven-ward at shooting stars and northern lights and a myriad of other wonders above. I looked at the title of the painting. The one word, "Loneliness" glared back at me, prompting a smile from me. I guess you could call it that if you so please.
I feel as though I've grown so much in 2024 in both confidence and ability, and I'm hopeful that 2025 is the year in which to apply this growth. I hope you all had a wonderful year and wish anyone reading this nothing short of the very best. Surround yourself with earthbound angels who encourage and challenge you to encourage and challenge yourself. Whatever you're thinking of doing, do it. Do it well.
Love,
Alan
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