Thanksgiving
My eyes are still adjusting to the new seasonal reality, to landscapes that were first leached of color and then stripped of coverings. It seems just a tad bit indecent, really - I look outside and am startled to see the brash shape of the land and trees, like someone has taken off all their clothes unexpectedly. Whoa, what's going on here? and Do I really need to see all that?
We 've put away the garden hoses and gotten out all the hats and mittens. The wind whistles through the back door, the warmth of the oven is welcome, and we light candles at dinnertime against the dark outside. The tea kettle rarely gets a break as we try to keep our chins up against the reality of a cold front moving in.
And now, here comes a holiday that nudges us to fight back against the melancholy that grey days and early darkness can bring: Thanksgiving. We think of family, of good food, of gathering together and celebrating. Soon, relatives and friends will come through the door laden with casserole dishes wrapped in towels; there will be pie, and wine, and a game of charades. In what has become tradition over the years, my daughter will recite her long-ago memory verse for those gathered around the table:
"As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease." Genesis 8:22
Right now, cold, winter, and night seem have the upper hand. But our work continues. Important work of gathering, connecting, tending and keeping, of being joyful, though we have considered all the facts. 1
Have a blessed Thanksgiving.
1A line borrowed from Wendell Berry's poem, Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
