Thanksgiving here in the north country give us a chance to pause just before the fear of “the great blizzard” gets to full force. I look out my window at the oaks between me and the lake, and while most have shed their leaves and been picked up and composted, a few trees resist gravity and hold on to what they’ve got left.
Each gray day without snow give us time to pause and to consider the stark beauty of the changing of the seasons and to anticipated the back pain from shoveling, the potential slip on the ice, or the nasty skid around a curve which once seemed so familiar.
The grass is somewhere between wakefulness and sleep; the markers have been placed along the edge of the drive; shovels and scrapers are next to the front door; water to the outdoor faucets has been turned off; and the storms windows are in their full down and locked position.
The snow tires are now on the trusty old Volvo; the oil has been changed, and the window washer fluid brought up to full strength.
Winter clothes, hats, gloves, scarves, along with nightcaps (yes, I do), heavy comforters, and long underwear have arrived from the basement, and some have even been put where they belong.
Intuitively, we practice the “well balanced walk” which one can observe anywhere in the country by going to the ward in a local hospital where the patients with hemorrhoids are recovering. It is that walk, combined with layer upon layer of warm clothes which gets us through the winter.
Well, that, along with coffee and whisky, and perhaps a warm dog or three.
So for us, Thanksgiving marks the end of the preparations for winter. With winter waiting in the wings, it is good to be hopeful at Thanksgiving, and this year, I’m inclined to the view that our hopes are somewhat limited – by the world situation, by the dismaying performance of politicians, by the daily reminders of man’s inhumanity to man in both word and deed, and by the persistent focus of the media on things that don’t matter.
So let’s be grateful for friends and family, the food we eat, the roof over our head, and the work we do to make it possible. Anything else is a bonus.
