Ring Out

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Another year is turning. Another year is gone. As cliche as it is, time marches on. It’s been an interesting year. A year of many firsts, a year of new beginnings, a year of endings. It’s been a year of hellos and goodbyes.

Last year in December I participated in Reverb 10. While I was somewhat saddened that it wouldn’t continue this year, I was also partially relieved. I tried so hard last year to make every posting only to fall apart when we traveled to see family. This year we visited B’s family and I was right in thinking that I wouldn’t really have time to blog. It was a good visit, but I am glad to be home.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

We don’t have any plans for tonight. We have a bottle of Moscato in the fridge just in case we make it to midnight so that we can toast in 2012. I think we’re going to play video games and love on our puppy. Yet we have so many plans for 2012. We should be moving within the first three weeks of the year. A new home. A new country. A new year. New friends, new places to see, new students, new trials, new joys.

The old year is dying, let him go. The year is going, let him go.

2011 has been a good year. A long year. A hard year. We’ve traveled so many places, made new friends. And now, as the year slips away into the night, we make our plans to fill 2012 with even more exciting adventures.

Happy New Year!

~The Countess~

Ring Out, Wild Bells is by Alfred Lord Tennyson. I first was exposed to this poem in college when I sang Jonathan Dove’s setting of it in the Passing of the Year. If you haven’t heard it, I highly recommend finding it on YouTube. This is a poem and musical piece that have stuck with me.


About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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