Saturday after Thanksgiving

It is the last day of November. I can hardly believe it! Thirty days have September, April June and November. Thirty days at a dizzying speed in a month that typically drags.

This year, just a few hours into November, I got this uncomfortable feeling that the month would not let me just coast. It immediately posed challenges. Then, two weeks into the month,  I was stunned at how inconsequential events could catapult you and toss you into uncharted waters and raging seas. Three weeks into the month, I had to find my way home again. Four weeks into the month, the family gathered with love and gratitude, and the kids played, and the oven got crowded again with tins and sheets and pans. And I trimmed Ed's beard and he no longer looks like a sailor lost at sea. Or, in the alternative, Santa Claus.

In other words, the month started with a tremble, moved through an earthquake and finished with a lullaby.

And today, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, that lullaby grew into a full blown operatic masterpiece.

It was not a complicated day. The two young families gathered at the farmhouse for brunch. Big deal, right?

Well, it is a big deal. Our big holiday together is behind us. Today, it's just us being us, with each other. Me making a frittata (with spinach, tat soi, and clamshell, trumpet and pioppini mushrooms. And cheese, of course). And baking cinnamon rolls. And mini pancakes for the kids. Oh, and bacon, because it smells so good on a cold wet day.

It's my last day with Primrose and I watch her extra closely, to get my fill of her at this beautiful age.











She has a special spot in our hearts, though of course, they all do. Special spots, overlapping, as daughters and their daughters and son spend precious free minutes together.






(Sparrow is the family sous chef. We see him as the next competitor at Junior Master Chef. Well, except for the fact that he is a terribly fussy eater. Perhaps we don't rise to his standards of excellence...)






Brunch. Happy, happy brunch.






(Snowdrop discovers the penguins on her napkin. Snowdrop does love penguins...)






(Primrose, grateful that grandma remembered the mango and the degree of ripeness was just right...)






There's still a little time for play. The two toddlers find a common love: trains, with room for passengers.






Snowdrop has reconsidered many of the little kid toys ever since her brother rolled them out on the play mat, but putting in and taking out characters into things that move? That's just too yesterday. She chills on her mom's lap.






(Sparrow's dad loves baseball caps. It looks like the little guy will form attachments to them as well.)






(She has that "little kids and grandmas! what are you gonna do with them" expression...)






Time to put on your shoes, Primrose...
No!






That's me, happy to have had this magnificent set of hours with the whole brood here once more, at the table with two inserts stuck in to accommodate us all, and a beautiful table cloth that my friend Bee and I picked out in Paris...





Life is always a tad more complicated than you may want, so I should note, for the record, that November ends with a lullaby alright, but with an asterik. My mom hasn't been feeling well lately. The kids had a good visit with her and Ed and I spent the day trying to fix some of the technical challenges she is facing, but, we cannot fix the fact that she is not feeling well.

What was that? A lightening flash outside? Pounding rain? Oh, November! You really are hellbent on inserting bits of trouble this year, aren't you?!