Despite the bah-humbug of my attitude about Thanksgiving, I am happy to receive some gifts at this time. One is a 'hello' from a loved cousin, my Uncle Brad. He was my Dad's best man at Mom and Dad's wedding.
My Mom and Dad grew up with boat loads of cousins. My brother and I barely know ours. I would like to have grown up with a large, extended family nearby, but it was not to be. Anyway, I love Uncle Brad and his family, and send them a lovely hello from his favorite 'niece'.
If you read my blog regularly, you know what I think of shopping on Thanksgiving, at this point. As pointless as a holiday as it has become, I see no need to add an extra load to the lost meaning, by adding a shopping day to the Christmas season.
I will boycott all shopping on Thanksgiving Day, and I always boycott Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. I try to shop year round, to keep Christmas in my heart. No sale beats the savings in January, after all.
And besides that, my friends? We are 'unseasonably' cold this year. The temperature during the day is about 32 degrees Fahrenheit. That's 0 degrees centigrade. It's bearably if the wind doesn't blow. Since our wind comes from the Arctic, and only stops long enough to ruffle the Great Lakes on the way down, the wind blows cold here.
I like a cold winter. I hate that the time has changed so that it is dark at 5 p.m. The famous 'midnight sun' is what makes Alaska look so tempting to residents of the East Coast of the U.S. along about this time of year.
Today, in this small corner of the world, my ceramic tree is lighted. I took the dog, Max, out to pee about 4 a.m., two hours ago, and he sleeps peacefully now, and dreams of the doggie treats in the form of turkey he will soon be blessed with. I have a roof over my head, my babies around me, heat, and something to eat this coming season. The coffee is especially fine this morning. The water is even better.
Even better, I have the thought of friends and loved ones to warm me.
It rains now, but is too warm yet, to freeze. We love the look of snow on the ground in this small valley, which tips all the green gold of the grass with white. It outlines the tree limbs, and the feathery needles of the pines and cedars. It paints a picture of seeming placidity in this busy holiday season. Did you know that sometimes, snow has a sound? Sometimes a gentle hiss, or the quiet drop of ice crystals as they hit the ice on the ground. Did you know that sometimes, when the wind blows the ice on the windows that, it is the sound of that you hear?
I know all this from my free spirited Father, desert born, who loved the snow and ice all his life long. For him, the tale of snow and ice meant hours outdoors, tramping in the snow, just watching it fall. He would meet others who lived with the snow there: the deer moving to shelter in a wood, or squirrels running out for one last trip to the grocery store, before it was time to go in.
And now, somewhere in Virginia, quite near Roanoke, I imagine, a she bear is curled into her winter sleep, comforted by my trashed blueberries and strawberries. She dreams of licking the bacon wrappers, and hamburger containers of yore. It's a shame she has gone home so early. I would imagine she would like turkey bones, and leftover gravy. And cranberry sauce? She would dance.