I haven’t swung an axe in a year, on account of my back. I did this afternoon all the while singin this land is your land…”. I carried the wood inside and thought that Mr. Pete Seeger will be with me as long as I am (and yeah I know that Mr. Woody Guthrie wrote the tune). Them guys are fine companions on a grey day when work needs doin’ and the rain and wind is blowin’ in across the Western Ridge.

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Early morning in Denton, Texas, outside Big Mikes. One time the waitress brought me coffee and a muffin and inquired after my well being; as she walked away, the shadows of her long hair played on the wall behind her and for a moment I felt like I might live forever. Denton, Texas, my home town, the place where I was born for the second time, the place where people know my story and are as if my kinfolk.

Sometimes I think about my childhood friends and the faces of the Denton crew come to mind. Weird how often it feels like that to me. Thinking about my old friend Howard this mornin’ and his peaceful passing in 2011.

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The thing is that I shoot the same stuff almost daily, these days. I am still “movement in the world” challenged – in other words I don’t get around much anymore. I love shooting the fog and mist. I kind of relate to it ” just hangin’ out on a winter’s morning hunkered down and still here. Wasn’t a done deal not so long ago. It’s better this way. For real.  Someone offered to drive me to some shooting locations. I confessed that I have become a parking lot kind of guy – at least until my back heals up, no uphills and downhills for this ol dude. Keepin’ the faith…

My FB year in review had lots of photographs, some of them are pretty good. It has a lot of words, some of which have been described as unflattering, or unnecessary or in my mind, just bad writing. Shit happens. It has been a complicated year. It started out with the arrival of my fabulous granddaughter and morphed almost immediately into a terrific project, Long Run pictures shot a lot of races and we seemed to be doing very well. All of that activity can tire a person out, so one day I lay down to take a nap and woke up having suffered a stroke which knocked out my peripheral vision. The next day I went for a run and two days later I shot an event here in Eugene. Grit is where you find it. It seemed to me at that time that there was nothing to fear and by the end of the year it has turned out that way. Shortly after the nap, I drove down to Western States, arguably the most historic and high-profile 100 mile race in America, a true privilege for a guy who makes a living shooting ultras. When I got back, full of enthusiasm for the project that we called ” Slammin’: Voices From The Middle of The Pack, damn if there wasn’t another stroke and after that another one. I canceled all of my shooting arrangements for the rest of the year, and the slam project went on hold. Not so very easy to do. I said goodbye to a friend I had hoped would be in my life for a long time to come. It didn’t work out. I wish for her and for everyone the best of everything goin’ forward in the new year: as I hope that we can do our level best to get out of our own way and find the best of each other in one another.

As of today, the year will end with the return of my daughter Ariel from two years abroad. Color me happy. As I was leaving the café where I often have breakfast, big old Ken, owner of the best BBQ joint in town called out to me, see you next year Mikey. Count on it. I said that.

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Note to self: do not use the arm load of wood that you are carrying into the house at 4 am to protect your face when you fall into the boardwalk going into the house – no real harm, some manly blood – and some scrapes, the mirror says I lost the fight, hmmmm …

The day ended better than it began. Age is not kind to my illusions about aging but the truth will come out. This one shook me up pretty good. Just sayin’. Doin okay though, friends checked in and made it easier: Bucklin Moon moved the wood inside; Good man that one. Early childhood training in the snows of Vermont. Told me he loved to chop wood and stack it. He said a stacked cord looked like a job well done. Roger that, Buck. Thank you.

Long night last night not much sleep to be found. A demon’s festival, inside my bruised head. Got out of bed and went out to get some wood – made it back inside, one demon down… grabbed my camera and went out to look over the valley bathed as it was in crystal cold pre-dawn light. Got the shot. Tough 24 – hell make that tough run from May to here. Broke down a little: “He will not see me standing here to watch the valley filled with snow. I have promises to keep”, said I to no one in particular. With Apologies to Mr. Frost. And Godspeed, Mr. Mandela.

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