And just like that, another year is coming to a close.

*(No, that was not a thinly veiled reference to the Sex and The City reboot, though I will admit that my curiosity got the better of me and I watched the first few episodes. Undetermined whether I’ll continue down that particular rabbit hole or binge other shows instead.)

As any event or time period ends, I can’t help but be reflective about what’s passed and speculate about what’s ahead. While I’ve never been much for New Year Resolutions, I do like the idea of processing what I’ve just been through and choosing what to carry with me into the next chapter. So this means that on New Year’s Eve I have a new-ish tradition of writing down on paper the things that I’d like to let go of; the things that perhaps didn’t serve me so well in the year that’s passed. Then I put the paper into a flame and burn each one up, one by one. (Maybe this year I’ll let go of watching too much useless television when I could be learning about a new skill or hobby. Hello, goat nutrition!)

Originally, my husband and I had planned to have a bit of a ‘do on New Year’s Day at our house with some local friends and neighbors (at last). But with the recent and ruthless surge of the Omicron variant, we decided to yet again err on the side of boring old caution and celebrate at home with just the 3 of us. Too bad we don’t like each others’ company. Upon reflection, I’d like to highlight a skill that we’ve honed during this wildly dynamic year: adaptability. Whether it’s changing travel plans last minute or making a party for just our household, I think we do a pretty good job of saying ok to the updated event and making it as comfortable/fun/interesting as possible. Maybe there was a little bit of a pity party before coming to that place of content resignation, but we’re only human. I just got back from our local fish store to secure us a couple of lobster tails for our New Year’s Feuer-fest, which will pair very nicely with the bubbly we have chilling in the fridge. See? Sounds like a pretty good celebration already.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of us moving here. And it feels like we just moved in while also feeling like we’ve always been here. Sort of similar to how it felt when we first met each other, this place felt familiar, like home. So we said “yes” to each other and “yes” to the house, because how can you deny home when you find it? Now it feels even more like ours with the adjustments we’ve made to fit our aesthetic. I still love the new backsplash in the kitchen and the entire downstairs bathroom remodel. I have my eye on a few other upgrades in the new year, like the lighting fixtures in the mudroom and extension, which stick out as if they were chosen by someone else (I wonder why that would be?). There’s also a chance I’ll either wallpaper or paint the stairwell and upstairs hallway, which have started to feel a little bare. I wonder if this is what people warned me about before buying a house: it is a process and will never be finished. Will I keep finding things to “fix” even if they were fine the year before? I do get so much satisfaction from finding the perfect shade of paint or the exact fabric or fixture for each room. It’s possible I’m addicted to that feeling and will search for imaginary problems just so I can get my rush. (Do I sense something else to let go of on New Year’s Eve?) The outside property has its own list of chores, and I’m a little overwhelmed about figuring out where to start in 2022. Thankfully we have a few months of forced indoor contemplation so I can wrap my head around what needs to be tended and in what order. I know for certain that the vegetable garden will need to be built. The fence won’t be nearly as gargantuan as the duck enclosure we built, so that feels manageable. And since the ground is just about to freeze, we can work out the plans before setting to work in March. Thankfully we have our huge (heated!), barn where we can start the task of cutting lumber and gathering supplies. Maybe we can even build a few of the raised beds so they’ll be ready to plop down in place in the spring.

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There’s still a big arborvitae hedge that cuts off the view of the woods and the pond from the house, and we’ve got to figure out how to remove it. Then there’s the relocating and consolidating of most of the flower gardens, as I’m really trying to keep it to just 2: the shade garden in front of the house and the main flower garden in the back. The vegetable garden will be the new home to the 3 blueberry bushes I planted last year that got picked over by the bunnies. (Hopefully with some raised beds and netting we’ll actually get to harvest some for our own consumption.) And I’ve got to decide whether to remove/replant/rehome the flower bushes that already exist there or to let them bloom in between the vegetable and berry beds. The back deck will still have the small wooden crates which were surprisingly perfect for individual tomato plants and herbs. And at $10 a pop from Michael’s, they didn’t break the bank, either. This winter I’ll sit down with my husband to decide which of the vegetables and herbs we loved growing in 2021 and which we can forego (beets, maybe? I wasn’t so good at them and got plenty from the farm, anyway). I still have seeds from most of the packets I opened this year and some I haven’t even dipped into yet, so I don’t think I’ll have to purchase any new supplies in the spring. Right now on a dark December night, I’m especially missing the tomatoes and jalapeños we grew all summer long, so those are going to the top of the list. Ok, and the kale, carrots, scallions, basil, and sugar snap peas. Woof, it’s going to be a long winter.

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For some reason, I started itching for another tattoo in recent months, even though I haven’t felt the impulse in the 8 years since my previous one. As many of you may know either from reading this blog or knowing me personally, my creative journey has been winding and often times disorienting. Part of the move out of the city was, I think, a way for me to examine more clearly what exactly I wanted my artistic expression to be. And how much of that would be linked to an income. Something inevitably gets lost when a passion is turned into a career, and in the case of an artist, what they’re selling is themselves. So it can get very confusing and delicate when knowing how much to charge, or how much to hustle, or how much to read into the lack or quality of the work that comes their way. For me, while I chose to study acting in college and pursued a career as an actor once I graduated, music is the art form that I can’t quite quit. Or maybe it doesn’t want to quit me? When I was very young I remember someone bought me a shirt that said, “If you don’t believe in angels, then you haven’t heard me sing.” I was so embarrassed to wear it, both because of the implication that I was just that amazing, and also because it caused people to ask (demand), I sing for them. I was a humble kid and put so much pressure on myself to perform, to deliver, that it created a lot of anxiety for me. I don’t know if this is what started my complicated journey with my singing, but I do know that it’s been difficult to categorize this particular aspect of my artistic self. Maybe it explains why I chose to study acting instead, though. Regardless, in the umpteen years that I’ve been searching for my particular brand of passion + career, music has always been there, sometimes on the fringes, but refusing to go away completely. I won’t go into the details because that’s for another book, I mean- blog post, but I’ve slowly accepted and embraced that I am a singer. First and foremost. During the early months of Covid in 2020, I sang. Every. Day. To stay sane. And when I moved upstate, my top priority (after getting our ducklings), was finding people to make music with.

I like to name things when I discover them, especially when it’s something that my stubborn brain needs to be reminded of. So I finally decided to get a tattoo that declares I am a singer- it would be permanent and proud and unequivocal. But what to get? Definitely not the angel quote. Shortly after Stephen Sondheim passed, I listened to Sweeney Todd out of nostalgia and heard the lyric, “If I cannot fly, let me sing.” Well, that was it. Did I mention the character singing it is named Johanna? I’ve often thought like singing feels like flying, swooping, soaring, gliding, and is absolutely transcendent (when I’m able to tune out my neurotic brain). So I found a tattoo parlor in my new favorite nearby town, made an appointment, and now that beautiful phrase is inked on my arm. But that’s not the entire story. The artist, a badass woman who owns and runs her shop completely on her own, handed me a Tarot deck when I settled in and said I’d draw a card afterward for her to interpret. I’m game to try pretty much anything and loved that this was turning into more than merely a transactional experience. She even researched the font I chose for my tattoo (Respondent), and looked up the definition (“one who answers.” Hello!). Once she was done with her needle work and we had plenty of time to ogle and photograph the finished product, I drew a card. The 5 of Materials. She “hmph’d” and told me to turn over the deck to see the foundational card on the bottom. Muse of Materials. I know nothing about Tarot so she explained to me: the 5 of Materials indicates self doubt. And the Muse of Materials, the foundational card that is linked to the first one, indicates abundance and grounding into the earth. As she described it, the self- doubt is where I am now and the abundance is what I could attain. Now, I was so amped up on my new body art that I didn’t dwell too much on that, but you better believe it woke me up at 1 am to pester and poke at me. How often have I doubted that I’m enough or that I’m even deserving of sharing my voice with others? Sometimes in this new life I’m living I’m crippled with anxiety about how much to focus on my old goals versus my new. If I didn’t achieve success already as Joanna 1.0 maybe I should leave well-enough alone and just focus on Joanna 2.0. But am I already starting too late to be any good at that?

Friends, this isn’t meant to bum you out or force you to send good thoughts my way (but I will always accept those, and gladly!). It’s more that I want to name (aha- see? I love that), my biggest Thing To Let Go Of. Self Doubt. I look around me tonight and see a delightfully beautiful home, chosen and decorated by me. And a delightful husband, chosen and decorated by me. (Ha. Kidding. He dresses himself. With clothes I bought him.) I’m coming off a season of singing concerts up here and on Long Island where I felt competent and validated. And- icing on the cake- I just this evening had a first rehearsal with a fabulous jazz guitarist who I met by chance, after someone told me he was looking for a singer to work with. I am a Respondent- One Who Answers, and now we have a plan to continue rehearsing and to start gigging throughout our county in 2022 (and beyond?). And now I have this reminder on my arm that I am a singer and the reminder of the card I drew that day- and the second one I drew that I can continue to aspire to.

I’m already at the length I usually aim for with these posts, so before I lose you with other ideas I have for the goats, the bees, and the vegetables on the Feuer Farm in 2022, I’ll quit while I’m ahead. Thank you to all of those who’ve followed my journey on the blog and I truly hope you stick around to see what we get up to in the New Year. Be well, be healthy, and be proud. xo