November and December seem a blur to me.  It was moving again and closing loops while moving through the emotional space of holidays not in the space for holidays.  After three tires and Traveling Wave coming to rest, the brakes need some attention and Vermont added another dimension to the aging between last time and this time.  Rust was evident on the calipers and the work took a week longer awaiting parts but the week was well spent even though completely disconnected from the internet.
A flight with my brother-n-law up to Durango and back to Denver again made it clear that between the two cities temporary staging grounds the 53 and 60 were still the places for me.  It is there the Zuni's trace their origins to a Salt Lake and dirt roads give hours of thought within natures palm.  The photo is looking toward Four Peaks a sacred mountain with the foreground being the Superstition range where the Pima Indians tell of a great demon who was caught up in the great flood and when the waters receded came to rest in those mountains.  The months like the great flood, seem awash in events from one to the next moving and preparing for this time now.  Now, when the holidays are past and people re-focus on work.  Now when the plans made all winter can begin to take root and in Spring give birth.  The connection is all things get swept up in a storm, good, bad or indifferent and each must wait for the flooding of unconscious events to soak in to the ground of being.