Noticing 2024

Some of what I've seen

A Note as 2024 Comes to a Close: Thank you for reading Taking Bearings. I’ve sent out almost 150 of these essays. It astounds me that people keep signing up and reading them. What a gift it is to be able to share these perspectives with you! I am grateful for your support. In 2025, I’ll be making some adjustments to Taking Bearings. Subscribers will not have to do anything, but sometime in January, things will begin to look slightly different. I hope you’ll stick around to see what else is coming.

As promised at the end of last week’s newsletter, this one (and probably the next) will be short, given the holidays. This week is The Field Trip, and I looked through all my photos taken in 2024 for inspiration. Read on!

The Field Trip’s Point

When I developed the idea of having a regular “field trip” feature for my newsletter, I anticipated (and hoped) it would force me to get out of my office. It has done that, but equally, it has encouraged me to look and notice in a different, more deliberate way all the time.

In late October, driving toward a neighboring town for dinner, my spouse saw a flock of snow geese dancing in the air. We pulled off the road for one of those magical moments that we get here in the Skagit, when birds and mountains, light and sea all combine just right. We watched the birds offshore for a few minutes before continuing on our way.

Skagit Bay and Olympic Mountains, snow geese as dots in the sky, October 2024. (author photo)

Such fleeting moments, I believe, change us.

Small Lessons

As I reviewed my 2024 photos, I found many shots from outings dedicated at least partly to this newsletter’s field trips. But I also recognized that my eyes are drawn striking images—shapes, residues, messages—in everyday spaces. Being even slightly more attentive when moving through the world helps you see better and see more.

I noticed both warning signs and signs of repair and hope.

(Clockwise) Floodwaters nearly overtop a sign, old burn in a forest, dike repaired, double rainbow, all 2024. (author photos)

I noticed details.

Dried grasses and lined bark, 2024. (author photos)

I found symmetries.

Local construction and local swans. (The construction site and field are nearly in the same photo from different angles.) 2024 photos. (author photos)

I learned to look beyond what is immediately in front of me.

Mount Baker behind the trees and salmon fry, summer 2024. (author photos)

Lucky Moments

With eyes up and out, we catch lucky moments.

Like the one a couple weeks ago, when I was running along a trail when my peripheral vision noticed bulky dark masses that blocked the sideways view.

Two bald eagles, quietly watching a few feet off the trail, December 2024. (author photo)

Or, when in late summer as I climbed up a hill at sunset in time to see this opening in the sky that closed and lost color moments later.

Sunset behind the Olympic Peninsula from Whidbey Island, September 2024. (author photo)

A Place to Share

I try to live according to Mary Oliver’s “Instructions for living a life. / Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it.”

Without Taking Bearings, I would likely notice a little less, plumb meaning a bit less deeply, not recognize messages left out in the open. And I’d share any insights, any inspiring images or thoughts to far fewer people.

So, as 2024 comes to the close, I am grateful to you, dear reader, for letting me share what has astonished me.

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Taking Bearings Next Week

Next week will wrap up 2024 and launch 2025. I aim to include a shorter-than-usual newsletter on New Year’s Day. It will be one from The Library. Stay tuned!