You can, of course, declare any meal, or label any day of the calendar "Thanksgiving" and it will count. It is nowhere written that living the spirit of this holiday must be felt on the fourth Thursday of the next to last month of the year.
I can, therefore, call this my "Thanksgiving with Snowdrop" day. Not only is she with me for all her waking hours, but, too, it's the last time I'll be playing with her until the end of the weekend and so I shall think of it as my own turkey and Snowdrop celebration.
Not that I'm roasting a turkey for supper. Thankfulness doesn't require having a stuffed bird in the oven.
The day starts as it always does -- with me releasing the cheepers at some very early hour (and thanks to one of Ocean's longest readers, I have the proper wrist warmers for the task. In fact, I think I create the perfect image of a farm frau -- walking to care for her chickens in the man's ten sizes too large overcoat, so well suited for a walk to the barn, clogs on bare feet, woolly wraps around my bare hands. All you need now is a photo of the chickens (who are so cold that they do their funny foot to foot stomp).
After tending to their needs, I hop over to the sheep shed to feed the very very aged Isie boy and finally I walk back to the farmhouse which, I think, looks properly ready for the winter holidays (icicles, sled and all).
Breakfast in the sun room (wake up, Ed! I need to get going!).
And then I'm with Snowdrop, just minutes before she herself wakes up.
Not too many words for you here -- I haven't time for lengthy writing today. A few photos, yes, of course. My own grandmotherly Thanksgiving photos.
What now, grandma?
Lap bouncing's fine!
I'm concentrating here!
A dance and a hug? Okay! I like to watch the little light flash on the camera before it clicks! All by itself! Amazing!
More serious play...
Which can be exhausting! Familiar Snowdrop thumb suck follows.
But it's always short lived. Life offers too many opportunities for lighthearted romps!
I'm so very thankful for all this. Every day I think about the wonderful moments that flow my way. A call from a daughter, a message from the other, a day with Snowdrop.
But let's put some trimmings and trappings of the holiday onto this day. Snowdrop, how about some turkey and root vegetable mush for lunch? You first turkey -- yum!
After a big turkey meal, a walk is highly recommended. It's above freezing, but just barely so.
Going out in winter sure is complicated!
Off we go!
Look, Snowdrop! The lake is starting to freeze!
And now the afternoon light fades. We hurry over to the farmhouse for that one last sled ride before the snow melts in the days ahead!
Is she happy in her little blue snow rocket? Well, the protest is loud and persistent until I hand her the bread we are to feed to the cheepers.
The then mood changes. Cheepers! Now that's fun!
Grandpa Ed can't resist joining in on the fun.
Back in the farmhouse, it's the same -- he tries to find instructions on the Internet on how to fix my headlight, but Snowdrop thinks hanging out with him is just the bees knees.
Next time I look up, they're figuring out the headlight problem together.
She eats...
She naps, she plays. And then it's time for her to go home.
Thank you for your superb enthusiasm, Snowdrop! I'm so grateful for all that you bring to the table.
Here, she's telling all of us -- do have yourself a very happy Thanksgiving week! With love.
I can, therefore, call this my "Thanksgiving with Snowdrop" day. Not only is she with me for all her waking hours, but, too, it's the last time I'll be playing with her until the end of the weekend and so I shall think of it as my own turkey and Snowdrop celebration.
Not that I'm roasting a turkey for supper. Thankfulness doesn't require having a stuffed bird in the oven.
The day starts as it always does -- with me releasing the cheepers at some very early hour (and thanks to one of Ocean's longest readers, I have the proper wrist warmers for the task. In fact, I think I create the perfect image of a farm frau -- walking to care for her chickens in the man's ten sizes too large overcoat, so well suited for a walk to the barn, clogs on bare feet, woolly wraps around my bare hands. All you need now is a photo of the chickens (who are so cold that they do their funny foot to foot stomp).
After tending to their needs, I hop over to the sheep shed to feed the very very aged Isie boy and finally I walk back to the farmhouse which, I think, looks properly ready for the winter holidays (icicles, sled and all).
Breakfast in the sun room (wake up, Ed! I need to get going!).
And then I'm with Snowdrop, just minutes before she herself wakes up.
Not too many words for you here -- I haven't time for lengthy writing today. A few photos, yes, of course. My own grandmotherly Thanksgiving photos.
What now, grandma?
Lap bouncing's fine!
I'm concentrating here!
A dance and a hug? Okay! I like to watch the little light flash on the camera before it clicks! All by itself! Amazing!
More serious play...
Which can be exhausting! Familiar Snowdrop thumb suck follows.
But it's always short lived. Life offers too many opportunities for lighthearted romps!
I'm so very thankful for all this. Every day I think about the wonderful moments that flow my way. A call from a daughter, a message from the other, a day with Snowdrop.
But let's put some trimmings and trappings of the holiday onto this day. Snowdrop, how about some turkey and root vegetable mush for lunch? You first turkey -- yum!
After a big turkey meal, a walk is highly recommended. It's above freezing, but just barely so.
Going out in winter sure is complicated!
Off we go!
Look, Snowdrop! The lake is starting to freeze!
And now the afternoon light fades. We hurry over to the farmhouse for that one last sled ride before the snow melts in the days ahead!
Is she happy in her little blue snow rocket? Well, the protest is loud and persistent until I hand her the bread we are to feed to the cheepers.
The then mood changes. Cheepers! Now that's fun!
Grandpa Ed can't resist joining in on the fun.
Back in the farmhouse, it's the same -- he tries to find instructions on the Internet on how to fix my headlight, but Snowdrop thinks hanging out with him is just the bees knees.
Next time I look up, they're figuring out the headlight problem together.
She eats...
She naps, she plays. And then it's time for her to go home.
Thank you for your superb enthusiasm, Snowdrop! I'm so grateful for all that you bring to the table.
Here, she's telling all of us -- do have yourself a very happy Thanksgiving week! With love.
