I'm not much of a yuletide fan, but as the end of the year that shall not be named was approaching, I was pretty stoked to see people getting into the holiday spirit. I wasn't Will Ferrell in Elf excited, but it was nice to see things returning to some kind of routine, even if was just through bad lawn decorations (top). Now, of course, we know that we were not actually post-pandemic. But at the time, with all the lights -- in the city holiday parade (bottom left) and on a keg tree at BrewDog (bottom right) -- the future looked bright.
The new year arrived, and at least in my family, the good cheer continued into spring. For one of my cousin's weddings, we took our first road trip in a while, to the farmlands of Pennsylvania (top left). The wedding was held in a barn, where I did a little dance with my other cousin's new arrival (top right). A few months later, we headed out into the country, this time in western Virginia, where another cousin held his wedding celebration -- almost a year after he and his beloved were married without fanfare in a courthouse due to the pandemic. On the other end of the spectrum, a friend couple that had been together for more than a decade planned their party in just a matter of months. But you couldn't even tell they condensed their timeline -- well, unless perhaps you critiqued the entertainment, which was an amusing (but far from polished) night of karaoke (bottom).
All the brides and grooms -- like us, I suspect -- were more than ready to see their family and friends in person again. We had already been socializing in our local bubble, but by summer, we started accepting outside visitors. We had driven a lot to see my family, so we were thankful when Scott's family came to us, both in July (top left) and November (top right). A group of Scott's former students reunited around our dining-room table (middle left). And we reunited with his college friends in Cleveland, which rocked (middle right). I convinced one of my college friends to shack up with me for a night by feeding her wine slushies at a bar down the street (bottom).
Even the outings we had been going on with our local bubble started to feel more normal. Sure, social distancing meant we had to sit farther away from the trivia host, making it difficult to hear (top left). But people still showed up -- seats apart -- to drink beer and support the city's first black-owned brewery at Crafted Culture Brewing (top right). And yeah, event hesitancy made the audience thinner at Art at the Wagnalls festival (bottom left) -- though we were still pretty busy as volunteers at the beer truck. But by the time the Circleville Pumpkin Show rolled around, the size of the crowds -- and gourds -- were massive (bottom right).
Besides returning to our local hangouts, we hiked in some familiar haunts. We took the previously untaken path at Little Rocky Hollow, which led us to an oasis that we had to bushwhack our way out of (top). And although I hadn't been to Cantwell Cliffs since I was a kid, I felt right at home in its natural playground, both among the boulders under its cavernous outcroppings (middle left) and on the bridge above its rocky overhangs (middle right). When a while later we went hiking at Cuyahoga Valley National Park (bottom left), we remarked how much its formations reminded us of Hocking Hills, right down to the steps squeezed between stones on the Ledges Trail (bottom right).
We headed to another hollow, Tar Hollow State Park, for our return to camping (top left). The park was busier than we expected, and we could hear the shouts of summer campers on the other side of the lake, but we still managed to find some peace in the tall pines (top right). The weather was a bit worse than we expected, so we only took a quick dip in the lake during a drizzle (middle left), but we were able to squeeze in a hike and a round of miniature golf. The weather was similar but the solitude was more sizable at Blue Rock State Park, where we camped in a quiet cul-de-sac (middle right). Unlike our previous trip, the only peeps we heard were from the resident frogs, one of which I almost stepped on during a hike because it was so well-camouflaged (bottom left). We had less trouble spotting a geocache in McConnelsville, on a bridge over the Muskingum (bottom right).
Getting back to camping was fun, but not altogether elating, as we did that activity even during more restrictive periods. But man, live music was what everyone wanted back, right? And WonderBus didn't let us down. It even welcomed us with a wondrous rainbow (top left). It was downright refreshing to see so many (vaccinated or negative-tested) people committing PDA (top right). But the highlight was seeing Wilco mere feet from the stage with almost no need to box out pressing fans (bottom left). I was just so happy to be at a concert that I didn't mind when the lead singer of Red Wanting Blue, standing right next to me, invaded my personal space a bit to get a video record of the occasion (bottom right).
An outdoor festival felt comfortable, but indoor gigs did prompt some trepidation. Thankfully, the venues we attended -- Stuart's Opera House and Woodlands Tavern -- put me at ease by limiting capacity (top left). And luckily so, since otherwise I would have never been introduced to guitar savant Damien Jurado, the opener for Will Sheff from Okkervil River (top right). Nor to the hip bluegrass jam band Fireside Collective (bottom left) and the socially conscious folk rockers Them Coulee Boys (bottom right). All in all, the only musical setback we suffered was a cancelled show by Dwight Yoakam -- not due to COVID, but food poisoning.
And then, just like that, the holidays were upon us again. And although this year, too, may not need be mentioned in the future, we had many memories to be thankful for. A standout for me was hosting friends and family for a Thanksgiving potluck (top left). The mostly vegetarian affair -- including a gluten-free, vegan pumpkin pie -- was a feast even for omnivores (top right). Soon after that dinner, lights and other Christmas trappings started going up around town (bottom), but so too did COVID case numbers throughout the country and world, due to the omicron variant. Sadly, it seems this is not a season destined for peace on earth, I'm afraid. But perhaps, if we all put some reason in the season and metaphorically hang our stockings with care, we can bring tidings of comfort and joy to this upcoming year. That would make me Elf ecstatic for sure.
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“When the Party Was Cancelled.” Subjective Lives and Economic Transformations in Mongolia: Life in the Gap, by Rebecca M. Empson, UCL Press, London, 2020, pp. 35–55. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv13xpsns.8. Accessed 23 December 2021.
