It's about family. Friends. Far and near. People: it's about people. Some of you may have many at your Thanksgiving table. At the grocery store, I was waiting to buy one slice of ham. Just one. I thought it could add something to the green bean plate. A woman standing next to me said -- oh, I'm having thirty for dinner! That's probably too many, isn't it? There was a note of both defiance and triumph in her voice. As if more is better.
More is not better. (And thirty is a little over the top, but hey, who am I to judge...) No one is counting. Your Thanksgiving should be as big or little as you want it to be. But no one is counting.
Our farmhouse Thanksgiving day begins with kitchen work. None of it is taxing, none of it is rushed.
I make the cranberry cornmeal muffins that should have been done yesterday and, too, the cranberry dressing. Simple. With orange stuff.
The Madison young family comes in time for a late morning snack. Sort of a second breakfast (somewhere in there, I think there was a first breakfast).
There is the parade to watch. There are books. There's food. Lots of food.
("There's Santa Claus!")
For me, there is the lovely warm hum of kitchen work.
("lunchtime!")
And in the early afternoon, my younger daughter arrives with her family!
Primrose! You're getting to be such a grownup girl!
Back in the kitchen, my daughter lends a hand. As does Sparrow...
(Showing Snowdrop how to grate a nutmeg...)
I'm a little preoccupied with the coordination of the meal. The veggies (brussels sprouts, green beans, corn) have last minute components. The stuffing and potatoes have to bake in the same oven as the turkey. Temperatures have to be adjusted. And so I only give an occasional glance to the activity in the other room...
(the dancing)
Though I do pause to take a picture of the awesome threesome!
Finally. The turkey is ready. The dark meat took significantly longer to reach the desired degree of doneness, but I am able to to stall everything so that it would all come together more or less at the same time.
It's both exhilarating and a relief when the meal is finally placed on the table and everyone sits down.
This is, after all, the whole holiday, right there, at the table, with the people you love so much!
Dessert is easy! Pies. Not baked by me!
And there you have it: the most heartwarming holiday of the year. Everyone is an equal player. Everyone belongs. And I am so very grateful to have all of them there today.
So, maybe you were at a meal with 29 others. Or perhaps your Thanksgiving merely meant that you talked to a bunch of family members on Facetime. It's all good. Indeed, beautiful to the core.
More is not better. (And thirty is a little over the top, but hey, who am I to judge...) No one is counting. Your Thanksgiving should be as big or little as you want it to be. But no one is counting.
Our farmhouse Thanksgiving day begins with kitchen work. None of it is taxing, none of it is rushed.
I make the cranberry cornmeal muffins that should have been done yesterday and, too, the cranberry dressing. Simple. With orange stuff.
The Madison young family comes in time for a late morning snack. Sort of a second breakfast (somewhere in there, I think there was a first breakfast).
There is the parade to watch. There are books. There's food. Lots of food.
("There's Santa Claus!")
For me, there is the lovely warm hum of kitchen work.
("lunchtime!")
And in the early afternoon, my younger daughter arrives with her family!
Primrose! You're getting to be such a grownup girl!
Back in the kitchen, my daughter lends a hand. As does Sparrow...
(Showing Snowdrop how to grate a nutmeg...)
I'm a little preoccupied with the coordination of the meal. The veggies (brussels sprouts, green beans, corn) have last minute components. The stuffing and potatoes have to bake in the same oven as the turkey. Temperatures have to be adjusted. And so I only give an occasional glance to the activity in the other room...
(the dancing)
Though I do pause to take a picture of the awesome threesome!
Finally. The turkey is ready. The dark meat took significantly longer to reach the desired degree of doneness, but I am able to to stall everything so that it would all come together more or less at the same time.
It's both exhilarating and a relief when the meal is finally placed on the table and everyone sits down.
This is, after all, the whole holiday, right there, at the table, with the people you love so much!
Dessert is easy! Pies. Not baked by me!
And there you have it: the most heartwarming holiday of the year. Everyone is an equal player. Everyone belongs. And I am so very grateful to have all of them there today.
So, maybe you were at a meal with 29 others. Or perhaps your Thanksgiving merely meant that you talked to a bunch of family members on Facetime. It's all good. Indeed, beautiful to the core.
