On Thanksgiving morning
Gratitude comes easily when everything in our lives is hunky-dory which, unfortunately, doesn't happen very often and when it does, it is usually but for a fleeting moment.
Rather, we reflexively tend to look forward or backward, or right or left, and get distracted by the reality of a sick friend, a sore back, something we forgot to do or fix.
That's why gratitude has to be enjoyed on the fly, so to speak, when the good fortune of the moment flashes before our eyes like a beautiful, unexpected snapshot.
This morning, Stew and I went for our daily morning walk with our dogs Lucy, Domino, Felisa, Roxy and Ellie, plus a small orange stray with a corkscrew tail whom we've named Malcolm, and who's decided that food and company are far better at our place than at wherever he came from. He lives under a bush outside our gate, ever ready to give us a twenty-one-gun salute whenever we go by, and considers himself a member of our canine gang.
We took a rutted road, whose destination we have yet to discover, through corn fields that by now have been picked clean, the dried stalks and leaves neatly bundled in symmetrical conical bundles that look like teepees.
The angled early morning sun highlighted both the golden autumnal colors and the dramatic shadows. A nip in the air—the water in our birdbath awakened with a thin topping of ice—gave our jaunt an extra snap.
But not before we paused to enjoy the gorgeous scenery of this place where we live. An impressionist painting authored by nature just for us. How privileged we are to live here!
This afternoon we'll go over to Don and Richard's, a couple from Chicago who are among our best friends, for Thanksgiving dinner, to enjoy the food and their company.
Today is one for daylong gratitude—not just a moment—when good and beautiful things confront us, unsolicited and free of charge.
Tomorrow may be different but I hope I find at least a few minutes to be grateful.
Rather, we reflexively tend to look forward or backward, or right or left, and get distracted by the reality of a sick friend, a sore back, something we forgot to do or fix.
That's why gratitude has to be enjoyed on the fly, so to speak, when the good fortune of the moment flashes before our eyes like a beautiful, unexpected snapshot.
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| Early morning show. |
This morning, Stew and I went for our daily morning walk with our dogs Lucy, Domino, Felisa, Roxy and Ellie, plus a small orange stray with a corkscrew tail whom we've named Malcolm, and who's decided that food and company are far better at our place than at wherever he came from. He lives under a bush outside our gate, ever ready to give us a twenty-one-gun salute whenever we go by, and considers himself a member of our canine gang.
We took a rutted road, whose destination we have yet to discover, through corn fields that by now have been picked clean, the dried stalks and leaves neatly bundled in symmetrical conical bundles that look like teepees.
The angled early morning sun highlighted both the golden autumnal colors and the dramatic shadows. A nip in the air—the water in our birdbath awakened with a thin topping of ice—gave our jaunt an extra snap.
But not before we paused to enjoy the gorgeous scenery of this place where we live. An impressionist painting authored by nature just for us. How privileged we are to live here!
This afternoon we'll go over to Don and Richard's, a couple from Chicago who are among our best friends, for Thanksgiving dinner, to enjoy the food and their company.
Today is one for daylong gratitude—not just a moment—when good and beautiful things confront us, unsolicited and free of charge.
Tomorrow may be different but I hope I find at least a few minutes to be grateful.
"An impressionist painting authored by nature just for us" Oh, I so wish I could write as you do..........so beautiful
ReplyDeleteI'm grateful for so many things, both of you, among the bounty of my life!
The view is exquisite.
Thank you, Barbara. Hope you had a peaceful and happy Thanksgiving. Now, on to Christmas!
Deleteal
Beautiful photo! Reminds me of a Wallace Nutting photo of a farm scene that hangs in my kitchen. What a joy and a blessing to live with such beauty!
ReplyDeleteMust confess I was not familiar with Wallace Nutting, so I had to look him up. And to the extent my photo might remind you of one of his, well, I'm flattered. Thank you.
Deleteal
It's unfortunate that your hunky-dory moments are fleeting. Mine have been nonstop since I moved to Mexico almost 18 years ago. Maybe that's because I have let the United States fade into the past, and that includes their customs. No Thanksgiving at our house. We're in another country.
ReplyDeleteBut I hope the meal was excellent.
Comandante Zapata: Congratulations on your nearly eighteen years of non-stop hunky-doriness. That is a most unusual state indeed.
DeleteI think you should share with the rest of us the secret of your perennial bliss, including any prescription medications that might be involved.
Compañero, in your constant bad-mouthing of the U.S. (except for your monthly Social Security check, which no doubt is an important part of your continuing happiness in exile) you remind me of some of the knee-jerk leftist types I hanged around with in college.
Ideologically speaking, I pronounce you deeply conflicted.
The food was delicious. Sorry you missed it.
al
Prescription or non....
DeleteHappy thanksgiving. Beautiful words...
ReplyDeleteThank you. Are you guys coming down from Vancouver for the winter? Someone recommended we take the train from Calgary to Vancouver in the spring. We were in Vancouver but not long enough.
Deleteal
Exquisite! You regularly make me swoon. Mil gracias....
ReplyDeleteNow Barbara, don't go on swooning and swooning. Once or twice it's OK, but not regularly.
DeleteThanks.
al
Oh I dunno... regular swooning keeps a girl going, you know? ;)
Delete