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In which I raise a toast to fallow years

Today is New Year's Eve, and as I've been doing the very New Year's Eve thing of looking back on my year, I've realized there is not much to look back on. It wasn't a bad year, and by global standards, it was absolutely an eventful one, but in the Evensen house? Nothing really major happened. I didn't give birth, or start a new job, or undergo a faith transition. We didn't move across the country or survive a global pandemic. Nobody had a mental health crisis or visited the hospital. I don't think we even met our health insurance deductible. The last time I had a year this uneventful was in 2016, when the most notable thing that happened was taking a road trip with my in-laws (that was a harrowing experience in its own right, but definitely not on a par with buying a house or like...childbirth). The past several years, I've gotten to the end of December and felt a sense of accomplishment at just having survived the year. Now I've finally had a chill year, and while I don't miss the upheaval and pain of previous years, I guess I sort of miss the bragging rights. Part of me worries that I'm stagnating, that a lack of major life events implies a lack of progress. And while I'm could easily frame 2024 as a boring year, or even a wasted one, I think it's more accurate to call it a fallow year. 

Fallowing is an agricultural practice where a field is left unplanted for a period of time, allowing the soil to rest. When a field lies fallow, it may look empty and stagnant, but beneath the surface, the soil is actively replenishing itself. Potassium and phosphorus rise from deep underground to nourish future crops. Carbon, nitrogen, and other soil nutrients are replenished. Beneficial microorganisms become more numerous, and the soil's capacity to retain moisture increases.  Fields that have fallowed for a year produce more crops once they are planted. They also have fewer problems with weeds and pests. 

My 2024 may have been a quiet year, but that doesn't mean it's been an unproductive one. I've spent it replenishing the stores of emotional and spiritual strength that the past years had depleted. I played the piano more, and started running again. I finished my first cross stitch project in 6 years. I spent time with friends and listened to music and did laundry and vacuumed my house. I met new people and went to book club and planted a tree and mowed my lawn. I went to soccer games and dance recitals and swimming lessons. I played Candyland and Snakes and Ladders and read every Dogman book out loud. I kissed my husband and snuggled my little boys. I was grouchy and awkward and neurotic and silly and happy and content. It has been a year of healing, of settling into new patterns. It has been a year of reconnecting with myself and with my loved ones. Whatever 2025 brings, I feel fortunate to have had this fallow year to recuperate and gather my strength for whatever comes next. 

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