Goodbye, 2025. Hello, 2026.
There’s something extra special about the final days of a year. Not loud. Not confetti-covered. Just a quiet pause—a moment to look back and consider what comes next.
Oh, 2025 has been a lot, hasn’t it? Wonderful in many ways (at the very top of that list: welcoming our first grandchild 💛). And heartbreaking + horrifying in others. (Turn on the BBC, and it doesn’t take long to see how fragile our world is.)
As this year tucks itself in, I keep thinking about what 2025 taught me—not through headlines or tidy resolutions, but in the slow, ordinary ways of living and noticing.
Do you do this too? Looking back can be a helpful thing.
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Lessons from 2025
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Rest isn’t quitting. It’s compost. Things have to break down before they can nourish what comes next. And without ample rest, moving forward becomes impossible.
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Attention is precious—maybe our most valuable resource. What we choose to watch, read, and tend shapes our days more than we realize. I set some boundaries in 2025 and they kept me sane.
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Small, steady habits still matter. Filling the bird feeder, noting first frost dates, showing up for our people, returning to the page. Big declarations are flashy; quiet consistency grows roots.
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Community doesn’t have to be large to be meaningful. A few true connections—a note in your inbox, a passalong plant, a book handed down—can carry more weight than a crowd.
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Grief and gratitude can live side by side. We can miss what was and still be thankful for what is. Some things don’t need fixing—only witnessing. This becomes more and more obvious with each passing year.
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Slow joy lasts longer than loud joy. Nostalgia isn’t about going backward; it’s about remembering what felt true and carrying that truth forward.
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Planting something—anything—still helps when the world feels uncertain.
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We don’t have to carry everything into the next year. Choosing what to set down is wisdom. Choosing what to tend is hope.
As we step toward a new season, may we keep what nourished us, compost what didn’t, and trust that growth—like grace—often happens quietly.
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One Little Word
For years now, I’ve chosen One Little Word to guide the year—not as a rulebook, but as a compass. And it’s time to choose a word again.
My word for 2025 was invest, and oh, that word served me well in so many ways.
Something I believe deeply: the words we choose continue to guide us. Words carry power. Positive thinking is real. We learned this from an early age, didn’t we?
“I think I can, I think I can…”
For 2026, my word is grace—not the polished, postcard kind, but the lived-in kind.
Grace that lets me slow down. Grace that encourages kind words (especially toward myself). Grace that loosens my grip on perfection. Grace for when plans change and life doesn’t follow the script. When the work takes longer than I hoped.
In 2026, I see grace as permission—to be human, to begin again, to say no, to walk away, and to trust that what’s meant to grow will, in its own good time.
I’m a little surprised I’ve never chosen grace before, given the name of this space. But this year, it’s the word that rose to the surface.
Have you chosen your One Little Word for 2026?
If you’re stuck, try this: Think about what matters most. Brainstorm freely, and use a thesaurus. Narrow your focus. Keep it simple. The word that keeps coming back is probably the one.
👍
Resolutions? Yay or Nay?
I’ll be honest—I like setting a few resolutions. (Probably because I’m a list maker.)
If resolutions work for you, keep them. If they make you anxious before January is even over, let them go. We’re allowed to choose what actually helps. And we’re allowed to change our minds.
My resolutions so far:
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Practice jumping. Yes, literally. When was the last time you tried? Think about it—it’s a skill we had as kids (think: jumping rope, hopscotch, jumping benches in basketball practice!)—and then one day, poof, it’s gone. So I’m working on core, leg, and hip strength. A strange resolution, maybe, but resolutions don’t have to be monumental.
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Listen to more classical music. It’s beautiful and inspiring. I still remember music class in elementary school—listening to Peter and the Wolf and talking about it afterward. That stuck with me far more than scrambling for a seat in a game of Musical Chairs or praying not to be chosen as the cheese in The Farmer in the Dale.
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Write my next novel. Yikes. This feels scary even saying it. I started a new story mid-November and plan to buckle down this winter.
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December Phenology.
Winter showed up… and then promptly went on vacation. Here in Fayetteville the past two days, high-temperature records have been shattered. And while it’s nice to walk the dogs without ski wear—and porch-sitting on Christmas Day was a gift—the reality is this kind of weather comes with consequences.
More invasive plants.
A longer allergy season.
More mosquitoes, ticks, and those maddening no-see-ums.
Animals that rely on hibernation may struggle. Birds may migrate off schedule or lay eggs too early. Plants may bloom before they should.
One thing I know for sure—everything is interrelated. And a change in one species will affect another.
Seriously… I noticed daffodil stems poking up in our side bed on the day after Christmas!
Our clematis has buds.
Cold weather is returning TODAY, and honestly, I’m glad.
Also, in the category of phenology: as I finish up my December wheel and begin on my January 2026 one, I would like to encourage you to start your own phenology practice. January is the perfect time to start!)
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On the 2nd Day of Christmas I Did a Big Thing!
Our vacuum stopped working. I almost bought a new one during the perpetual Black Friday sales. BUT, instead of forking out more money, I took it apart—eleven pieces!—cleaned it, and managed to put it back together.
I watched three YouTube videos and made multiple trips to the garage hunting for the right screwdriver.
And now?
It works.
Ha! This feels like a big thing to me.
I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.
👏👏👏
First Bird of the New Year
Here’s something fun to do on New Year’s Day: Take note of the first bird you see in the new year and consider it to be a hello from nature, a reminder to pay attention.
Maybe you’ll see a cardinal flashing red against bare branches, a sparrow hopping along the fence line, or a hawk gliding low and sure over an open field.
According to tradition and folklore, birds have symbolic meanings, and the first one you see says something about your year to come.
- Sparrow – Humility, simplicity, and everyday joy. A reminder that small things matter and ordinary days hold grace.
- Cardinal – Vitality, love, and presence. Often seen as encouragement to be bold—or a comforting sign of someone remembered.
- Blue Jay – Intelligence, communication, and standing your ground. A nudge to speak up or protect what’s yours.
- Robin – New beginnings and renewal. A hopeful sign that something fresh is stirring, even in lingering cold.
- Mourning Dove – Peace, gentleness, and quiet endurance. A soft reminder to move through grief or change with grace.
- Hawk – Focus, clarity, and awareness. Time to look closely and trust your instincts.
- Eagle – Courage, leadership, and big-picture thinking. Rise above the noise.
- Owl – Wisdom, intuition, and seeing what others miss. Listen more than you speak.
- Crow – Transformation and cleverness. Change is underway—pay attention.
- Raven – Mystery, depth, and insight. An invitation to explore the unseen or untold.
- Mockingbird – Expression and storytelling. Your voice matters—use it well.
- Wren – Energy, determination, and joy in motion. Small but mighty.
Let the first bird you see be a reminder that the year doesn’t need a grand opening—sometimes it starts with a wingbeat, a tweet, and the decision to look outside.
Things Momma Says:
I’ll tell you one thing—AARP would have a lot more money if they didn’t send me mail every day.
😂
Thanks for saying Goodbye, 2025 and Hello, 2026 with me. I hope we all “take a cup o’ kindness” into the new year and leave behind what didn’t work.
In 2026, may your days be lighter.
May your investments be wise.
And may there be room for grace in every season ahead.
💛
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Goodbye, 2025 music:
Hello, 2026 music:
Such a wonderful newsletter. Thank you so much. As you enjoyed it being warm enough to sit on your porch on Christmas day, we were happy that it was finally cool enough to have Christmas dinner on our patio with the AC off and the house open. And as I picked the young vegetables and strawberries from the garden for dinner I realized how truly blessed I was to have had my mother and great grandmother’s who taught me how to grow food and can it for the future and like the garden how fleeting life is. I will soon celebrate 50 years of marriage and wonder where the years have gone. Thank you for your newsletters and books and the richness they add to my life. May 2026 be the best one yet.
I’m so glad you had a lovely Christmas filled with fond memories. Life is good!
Your newsletter was such a joy to read and reflect upon. It brought forth so many thought about this past year and the year we are just about to embark upon. Talya, your descriptions of the beauty in ordinary life and the wonder of nature always draw me into your view of our world. Don’t stop writing or sharing with those of us that need reminders to enjoy Grace all around us. Happy New Year to you and John and your family.
Love Martha and Kip
Thank you so much, Martha! Happy New Year to you and Kip and the entire Rolland family.
Love reading your newsletter, you’re truly an inspiration. Temperatures have been unseasonably for December. The deer haven’t been visiting as often. The owl that has been visiting every month since late September has traveled on. Ready for Colder weather ( Soup Weather) but not frigid temps. Realizing through grief and trauma I’m resilient, learning to find me in the mist. Enjoying my Grandson immensely ( he makes my heart sing) Contemplating the word for 2026 and Grace is good, on the giving and the receiving end of it. Started my Phenology journaling in October and wrapping up December. Very enjoyable makes one realize to value our days. Can relate with what Mama says, I get tons of postal fliers from AARP. I read where 2026 is the year of the Horse, it makes one hopeful. Read some really good books in 2025 Theo being one. Wishing you a year of success on your writing and healthy and bountiful year. So enjoyed pictures of your garden. Please over share this spring! Happy New Year!
I love your newsletter and your down home thoughts! Oh! And of course your books! My word for the new year is kindness! What a way to make the year better,
Catching up on my reading!
You are such a wise woman. Thank you for sharing your observations and responses. I love your word for the year. Giving ourselves and others grace makes our world a kinder place. And we all know it could use a big cup of kindness these days.
I think the first bird I saw in the new year was a fat little wren. I kinda resemble her. 😏