I woke this morning, excited that Thanksgiving is so close. I love this day, this week. I was thinking of how families and friends used to live in one abode, village, town, and then, horses and buggies allowed more travel, and then, came trains and cars. Now, car travel where I live can be exceedingly slooooowwww, which is why it is such a treat to gather the whole family together. We circle wagons for days.
I am also struck by this. Wild turkeys roam where I live. It probably is illegal, but if I were to snatch one, I am sure it would not be missed by anyone other than its tribe, and that is not to dismiss the turkey tribe. Certainly these local turkeys are free-range and eat organically. We allow no spraying of insecticides in Tam Valley, though I have one neighbor who loves to spray, so hopefully they will avoid her yard.
But instead of rounding up one of my local friends, I order a turkey from the Sierra Foothills, a turkey named Heidi, one that has been pampered even more than those who laze around me. That turkey is coming in a truck which contributes to the traffic of which I complain.
I ordered the turkey on-line, since no one was there to answer the phone when I called. I missed the brief voice contact, but I have not used a bank teller in more years that I can count, so I have accepted the modern world as it comes.
I will make my pies from "scratch." Well, using the family tradition of Libby's pumpkin, because it is never quite as good to us when made from a "real" pumpkin, rather than taken from the can. My family prefers Ocean Spray cranberry sauce, with the can lines intact, even though I also make Bradley Ogden's cranberry sauce. Who knows how many years it is since any one in my ancestry actually caught and killed a turkey, and so I go the modern way which is to travel in my car to the store. "I am traffic," as my friend Karen loves to say, and I am grateful for all the inches and centimeters of my day.
Gobble, gobble the blessings as they come rumbling to you!!