On January 1st, we kept a tradition Tim and I have been keeping since we married: we spent the day making a pilgrimage for good luck and healing in the coming year. We made offerings sitting near a fire in the back garden (in the snow) then drove down to the Boulder River about a half hour from home, to spend the afternoon and leave our prayers and offerings.
Sam accompanied us, of course. He had waited near the fire, as usual, for us to get going. He always knows when we're preparing for a pilgrimage (which for him, means a hike) and gets excited to leave .
The Boulder River today was icy, dark, swift. We stayed back from the banks a bit not wanting to chance falling through the blue ice. The day was warm and we could see where the ice shelf that lined the river had fallen, leaving a raw crack, like a wound. The center of this river runs free most of the year because it is fed by several hotsprings in the valley. This is a sacred spot to the tribes who frequented the Boulder Valley every winter. We have come here many times to pray so it feels like one of my homes in Montana.