This first question below has not yet been asked aloud. But it still rankles: why should I have to even think about this before she is much older? Why do I keep wondering what I’d say if her mother turned to me and said, “Let’s ask Grandpa . . . .”

Not to mention if they were in Texas last spring, that awful, awful day . . .

As much as possible, I preferred to focus on our little piece of turf, which the Fair Wendy was turning from the conventional “lawn” into a “rewilded” patch of habitat.

We started this spring by needing to take out the small maple tree, which we had found to be very diseased. Wendy refilled its space with a mix of wildflowers.

She did a fine job.

But I kept being buffeted by stuff from outside; you know. . . .

And the continuing presence of 45 . . .

And the labor of keeping up with the war . . .

The hearings went on, magnificently. Finally there were the midterms . . .

. . . when the long-dreaded Red Wave did not arrive . . .

Eventually the frosts of autumn came. The wild yard died back, to compost til spring.

And despite the recent bitter cold, my mood, at least was lifted measurably from the last winter.

Then at the sunrise of New years Eve, I looked out the kitchen door to catch a glimpse of the future, but . . . all was shrouded in mist and fog, with rain to follow.

But undaunted, later the Fair Wendy and I went out to get some fare to mark the occasion, I had a yen for a COSTCO pepperoni pizza: big, hot, greasy, yummy and inexpensive. I arrived just in time to see the very last Costco pizza of 2022 emerge slowly  from its big oven- the heat and aroma so near — and yet so far,  as it was meant for someone else; then they were all out!

But we found an inferior version at a nearby supermarket, and with it I drank a bottle of Coke made in Mexico, and a quiet time was had by all. Is that enough to sustain hopes for the new year?

I guess it better be.