It is thanksgiving weekend. It's impossible not to be aware of the dubious origins of the holiday (I remember hearing a First Nations comedian stating that his family's thanksgiving tradition was to invite their white friends over to dinner so that he could spend the evening with his family in the linen closet while his friends feasted in the dining room on the dinner he'd made for them,) and every year's discussions seem to contain reference to this reality. Yet most of us can't help but enjoy the excuse to hike outside and visit with friends and family and enjoy a meal together and to take to time to give thanks for what is good. The weather is lovely and it feels wonderfully harvest-ish around here as people bring in the last of their gardens and cook up the bounty. This year there was potatoes and beets and cabbage and carrots and turkey all grown in the backyards of our friends and relatives (ours was a little neglected due to the obvious newborn distraction. ) And I am feeling thankful- for these glorious fall days, for my family, my husband, my sweet baby boy... Who is grateful for the season too- nothing quiets him quicker or entrances him more than a good walk outside. I want to always remember the way he breaths in wide eyed and wiggles in delight when the wind blows across his little face. How I love him so!
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