This day feels decidedly different from every Thanksgiving I can remember. That doesn’t mean it can’t be special, though, and I’m doing my level best to focus on that.
And in that spirit, I will say this: I’m grateful for the fullness of my life.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, however you are celebrating this year. I will see you back in this space on Monday.
The weather last Sunday was not ideal for getting out, it was raw and cloudy. And we went for a walk anyway. First, because it gives me blog fodder. Second, because it’s good to get moving. Third, because we’re enjoying finding new places to go together.
Dale suggested a portion of the rail trail in the next town over and I agreed readily. He’s actually done this walk many times while hunting but it was the first time for me.
I was fascinated by this tree. I think it’s a beech tree and all of those knots are amazing. Maybe a little creepy, too? Definitely cool. Not cool was the sofa that someone had dumped next to it.
Not surprisingly, there were cairns. I think we see these more often than not and I love the reminder that someone else walked here . . . someone who took the time to gather stones and pile them up . . . someone who is saying hello . . . look at this and be present.
In this week of amplifying gratitude, I am grateful for these walks with Dale.
The decision has been made with regards to pie. There will be 3. And they will be full sized. As cute as those little pies are I worry that they will be . . . fussy to make and more challenging than just following my usual pie formula. So, later today I will make 2 sets of pie dough instead of my usual 5. And tomorrow I will make a pumpkin, a mincemeat, and a cranberry pecan. In the spirit of pie, I found this poem to share with you. I think the title couldn’t be more appropriate because pie = perfection!
1.
Pies have a reputation.
And it’s immediate—no talk of potential
Regarding a pie. It’s good
Or it isn’t, but mostly it is—sweet, very sweet
Right then, right there, blue and red.
It can’t go to junior college,
Work hard for the grades,
Work two jobs on the side.
It can’t slowly build a reputation
And a growing client base.
A pie gets one chance
And knows it, wearing as makeup
Those sparkling granules of sugar,
As a collar those diamond cutouts
Bespeaking Fair Day, felicity, contentment.
I tell you everything is great, says a pie,
Great, and fun, and fine.
And you smell nice, too, someone says.
A full pound of round sound, all ahh, all good.
Pies live a life of applause.
2.
But then there are the other pies.
The leftover pies. The ones
Nobody chooses at Thanksgiving.
Mincemeat? What the hell is that? people ask,
Pointing instead at a double helping of Mr.
“I-can-do-no-wrong” pecan pie.
But the unchosen pies have a long history, too.
They have plenty of good stories, places they’ve been—
They were once fun, too—
But nobody wants to listen to them anymore.
Oh sure, everybody used to love lard,
But things have changed, brother—things have changed.
That’s never the end of the story, of course.
Some pies make a break for it—
Live underground for a while,
Doing what they can, talking fast,
Trying to be sweet pizzas, if they’re lucky.
But no good comes of it. Nobody is fooled.
A pie is a pie for one great day. Last week,
It was Jell-O. Tomorrow, it’ll be cake.
Originally published in The Dangerous Shirt (Copper Canyon Press, 2009). Copyright © by Alberto Ríos.
It’s Thanksgiving week so it’s only natural that gratitude is on my mind. I’ve kept a gratitude journal since August 2019. That’s 456 days of sitting down first thing in the morning (while my coffee brews, in fact) and writing down 5 things I am grateful for.
It generally takes the shape of 5 things from the previous day and sometimes it feels like I’m just writing down daily highlights . . . the best things that happened on a given day. I’m not always certain that’s a true expression of gratitude but there’s nothing wrong with being grateful for good things that happen. Plus, my gratitude journal . . . my rules.
The things I’ve written down are as simple as birds singing outside my window, as lighthearted as watching Jackie dance, and as profound as the day after Dale’s accident when I simply sat at my table and wrote, 5 times over . . . Dale is alive. Flipping back through the pages of my journals sparks memories and moments that I wouldn’t ordinarily spend time recalling and I am very glad I have a place to go where I’ve gathered these memories together.
If you’re the journaling sort I encourage you to give this a try . . . and what better time to start than Thanksgiving? I believe expressing gratitude makes us happy, makes us present, and makes us aware. It’s a good way to live, friends.
As I look around right now all I see are leaves on the ground. They are lovely and yellow, they crunch when I walk through them, and they have a distinctive musky-sweet smell that I would know anywhere.
Enjoy the sights and sounds and smells this weekend, friends.