It's different this year. (Of course, in one way or another, it is always different.) I mean, we set about it differently, even as the enduring powers that propel us are the same.
I wake up at my little one's house and always, always on these holidays I am the first one up, but not this time! They're already putting things in the oven and my older girl and her husband are just minutes away. Well now. That's different!
You'll see a lot of food passing through this blog post. Not all of it (in fact not most of it) is mine. We each bring things to it. I wont attribute every dish: just know that we've all worked hard to make this Thanksgiving absolutely perfect.
And it starts with breakfast.
Ahhh! Wonderful!
Our collective thought is to skip lunch. After all, the Big Meal is (planned) to be early. But someone suggests a charcuterie tray of midday munchies. And it grows. At first, a cheese, a sausage. Then two sausages. Then someone brings to the table pheasant and venison jalapeno meats. Then another cheese. And a vegetable. And a fruit. And of course, the home made crackers.
One daughter stirs one pot, the other daughter frosts something -- each dish put forth with such enthusiasm. And love.
Then the big meal. Preparations. The girls' dad comes over. Many people, accessing the burners of the stove as best they can.
Finally. We sit down and eat.
And it is such a good meal. The pumpkin soup, the brussel sprouts, the corn, the scalloped potatoes, the gingered cranberries, the wild rice.... Such a good meal! Best ever!
My girls spend a moment with their father reviewing the wedding album of my older one.
I sit back and think about life's transitions.
The holiday season is magical. Truly it is. And just when you are starting to feel the seriousness of it all, someone brings out the cake and the jubilations pick up all over again.
I call Ed. It's quiet at the farmhouse. Isis is, as always, asleep on the bed. I smile at that. Yes, all is right with the world. And I, for one, am so very grateful for that.
I wake up at my little one's house and always, always on these holidays I am the first one up, but not this time! They're already putting things in the oven and my older girl and her husband are just minutes away. Well now. That's different!
You'll see a lot of food passing through this blog post. Not all of it (in fact not most of it) is mine. We each bring things to it. I wont attribute every dish: just know that we've all worked hard to make this Thanksgiving absolutely perfect.
And it starts with breakfast.
Ahhh! Wonderful!
Our collective thought is to skip lunch. After all, the Big Meal is (planned) to be early. But someone suggests a charcuterie tray of midday munchies. And it grows. At first, a cheese, a sausage. Then two sausages. Then someone brings to the table pheasant and venison jalapeno meats. Then another cheese. And a vegetable. And a fruit. And of course, the home made crackers.
One daughter stirs one pot, the other daughter frosts something -- each dish put forth with such enthusiasm. And love.
Then the big meal. Preparations. The girls' dad comes over. Many people, accessing the burners of the stove as best they can.
Finally. We sit down and eat.
And it is such a good meal. The pumpkin soup, the brussel sprouts, the corn, the scalloped potatoes, the gingered cranberries, the wild rice.... Such a good meal! Best ever!
My girls spend a moment with their father reviewing the wedding album of my older one.
I sit back and think about life's transitions.
The holiday season is magical. Truly it is. And just when you are starting to feel the seriousness of it all, someone brings out the cake and the jubilations pick up all over again.
I call Ed. It's quiet at the farmhouse. Isis is, as always, asleep on the bed. I smile at that. Yes, all is right with the world. And I, for one, am so very grateful for that.
