Here it is, Christmas morning, 23 (degrees F) outside and still working hard after two hours to get up to 60° inside. There's snow outside, but not falling. This was the first year I saw it snowing below 20;° usually it has warmed up to 30° to do that. Something new every day! Let's see if I can "comb any other wisdom from the chaos" of the past year, to borrow a concept from my mother's philosophizing cousin Arthur (who might have quoted it from some earlier writer, but he didn't say). I've been reading Art's last annual collection of essays this morning as part of my annual rite of Christmas. This letter has become, albeit more sporadically, another such "write" that some of you eagerly anticipate; I've been thinking of it for months, wondering what would be the trigger that set it into motion. Cousin Art has at last provided the jumping-off place.

I was combing the Facebook "search" option for his daughter's name a few months ago when I came upon the wonderful published obituary tribute to this quiet, thoughtful man, once the librarian for the Oakland Tribune, and earlier, a caretaker for my teen-aged mother while her university-professor father took care of professional callings. Google can lead to treasures, then--even family ones! Now I'll write to his wife, cousin Rachel, our nearest known tie to our Minnesota kin--doesn't everyone have those? My friends-circle here certainly thinks so, as one of them IS a Minnesotan, and another used to live there!

Yes, we're all fortunate to have any family and friends we can claim...mine sometimes miss me, as I'm out with other circles instead of with them. Even today, I'm pulled among two or three...right now I'm enjoying the "pumpkin spiced" (I'm allergic to pumpkin, but not its spices!) fake eggnog gifted from my best friends, now holiday-ing in western Washington; soon I'll be sitting down to dinner at the home of my outdoor adventure buddy; and later on I'll be joining the Minnesotan and associates for some table games---having missed all of it on Thanksgiving because of a cold. I also enjoy other groups, like the photography club, the native-plant enthusiasts, and the birdwatchers, all of whom also party on occasion.

First Saturday Photo Safari" has been a fun way to gather friends on a fairly regular basis. We began it last year, and continued enjoyably for several months of 2009. I creditably got out of being a photo club officer this week by promising to continue leading these outings. We never know where they'll take us, but we know it will be within about an hour of home, and it will end before mid-afternoon--so we have time to empty our cameras into our computers and play with the results before whatever's happening that evening! My favorite image from these sorties, one that always comes to mind, is just a bit of feather-fluff snagged on a weed, taken last December. It reminds me of the glorious, full-bodied beauty in transience itself, and the insignificance and fragility of all our lives.

I'd like to celebrate here the arrival in Pocatello of a mixed-product recycling program similar to what I've seen at my sister's in California for several years. It is so darned SATISFYING to be able to keep my few tin cans out of the landfill that I gladly add to them the myriad types of plastic bottles I find on the streets while I'm walking to work and back, and the oodles of junk mail that flow in continuously, and the cardboard I used to save for cash. I still stockpile aluminum, picking up flattened cans along with those bottles on nearly every walk, and will eventually fill a car with those bags for a trip to the recycling place in order to reap maybe one month's worth of the city recycling program's fees. And I still (grrrrrr) have to take my glass to California, as Idaho has no program for that. And yes, I still do worry considerably about the MOUNTAINS of waste from around the world that I've seen photographed in 3rd-world coun