I love this time of year. November brings a sort of stillness and quiet, animals settling in for the winter, people slowing down. (Well. . . they speed back up in December, but then they slow down!)
As Thanksgiving nears, I tend to focus my gratitude in part on seasonal blessings. Focusing is a good thing; it keeps me from going on and on. . . and on and on.
I am grateful for. . .
- leaves that change from yellow and flame-colored to old gold and bronze
- mist and wind and early morning rain
- songs about such, like “In the Early Morning Rain”
- a warm, dry place to sleep
- fires, candles, blankets, quilts. Oh, and flannel anything (shirts, PJs), sweatshirts when they are new and soft, slipper socks
- tomato-based anything: chili, spaghetti, my mother’s vegetable soup
- reading in bed, especially mysteries
- family coming from out of town to be together
- my mother, age 86, and my dad, age 87
- my wonderful husband and Ben and Gary, our sons – loved, loved, loved everyday
- spiritual blessings
- seeing compassion and love, bravery and care
- hope. . .for more of these, for all creatures great and small
- hope. . . to do better, be better
And last but not least. . . anything pumpkin flavored: pies, muffins, bread, donuts (yes, I found them this year), lattes, soup. . .
“Hurrah for the fun, is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!” (from “The New-England Boy’s Song about Thanksgiving Day” by Lydia Marie Child)