Undocumented Life, or, a lack of photographic evidence

From this 12 months that is ending I do not have a thousand photographs proving that good things have happened to me. 

I do not have many photographs from this year at all. 

I still carry my camera with me at all times, but there has not been a tendency to reach for it when things happen.  Instead, there has been a conscious thought that I am living my life, rather than documenting it. 

I have had fantastically beautiful drives along the north road at sunrise, sunset, and under the full moon. 

I have seen moose, deer, bear, wild cat (lynx or bobcat with cubs), rabbits, hawks, bats, eagles, dragonflies, chipmunks, red squirrels, and caterpillars.

I have driven along the north and west shores of Lake Superior, and watched the sun  and moon rise and set, and seen the moon glitter over the Sleeping Giant.

I have been camping in Algonquin Park, and lain on a bench with my love watching the trees and the clouds and the sky dance together.

I have seen rainbows, tornado clouds, hurricane winds, fallen trees, torrential rain, flooded roads and tents, and been issued weather warnings by Rangers in Provincial and State parks.

I have driven with kayaks, and a sofa on the car.

I have listened to the sound of wind and waves while sleeping in my car at Lake Superior Park.

I have been loved and missed by my friends, and I have loved and missed my friends.

I have been welcomed as family, by those who love me.

I have made new friends, and experienced the wonder of sitting in a river in the heat of summer.

I have caught up with family, and found that I was lost.

I have calmed down.

I have fallen in love.

I have grieved.

I have come home.

It has been an interesting year.