In my book, no one particular day or date is of more importance than another. As I have said before, our calendars are our own creations, woven out of a need to create some order in the time. Native people used the changing seasons, the changing patterns of the stars, and the movement of their food sources to do the same thing. (That was me being wordy when a simple sentence would have sufficed nicely. You do know I can hear you thinking, right?) Thanksgiving went zipping past, unheralded.
I moseyed over to have a quiet lunch at the pink kitchen table with my dear old dad. We ate what we wanted, the simple goodness of foods we enjoy. We sat in the sun together and remembered Thanksgivings gone by; the rush and whirl of many people in one house, hunters coming in from the field, children laughing and crying, familiar voices visiting in every room. Dad and I enjoyed the quiet afternoon as we sat outside and watched two pair of pale, gray ring-necked doves coming to the bird bath to drink. Most of his trees still held their yellow leaves on that day in late November, my brother's birthday in fact. As I turned the last corner on the drive homeward, I stopped the car and stepped out to drink in a the fiery colors of a neon sunset stretching across the horizon.
The next morning company/family arrived to run in the wildness that is the farm and help me decorate for Christmas. They know full well that if they don't come and help, I probably wouldn't do it. (It's more fun with little helpers. Everyone knows that.) There was plenty to drag out of the closets and Audie's boys were great helpers, organizing the nativity, placing the old and new ornaments on the new tree. Santa hats were found and donned and Christmas music was streamed all morning.
Santa and I did some work in the pretend workshop under the bridge; taking calls from some kids on the naughty list and trying to encourage them to try harder in order to get a present or two. The reindeer were taken care of and given the special rations that enable them to fly. The sleigh was shined and bells attached. This isn't Santa's first rodeo; he was handing out work assignments right and left and the elves were busy as.....well, as busy as elves at Christmas. An owl, a real owl, flew out from under the bridge and glided silently over our heads as we worked. Wow. That was unexpected and wonderful.
My addition to the feast that was happening on Sunday was homemade bread. This is what I always bring because I'm good at it. Here is little Rowan, acting as my baker's helper in his elf hat. This year I also brought chex-mix because it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it. (That being said, you can easily make yourself sick on that stuff, so be careful. )