As the old year passes, I take to the road. No time yet to mull over 2013. That will happen today, when I’m driving.

Meanwhile, a photo I snapped yesterday — sleeping vines, dried tendrils. Not unlike the palm of a hand or the expanse of a road map. Crinkled, worn, main arteries obvious now that leaves have gone.

Here at the cusp of a new year, it’s not hard to see where I’m going, where I’ve been.