The Mind of Thanksgiving
The long harvest is finished. The garden is laid by under its blanket of vetch and clover. The hens go to roost early, the eggs diminish. The darkness is descending fast. In the cold frame the seedlings are slow to emerge. The spinach will barely dimple. Everything slows down but the frost.
It is time to go indoors and give thanks for whatever stores we have. The butternuts that sleep like gold bars in their drawer. In the windowsills the lemon tree that blooms abundantly. Blue flowers appear on rosemary and delphinium. The amaryllis bulbs begin to peep out. We eat pickled beets and pickled cucumbers and onion pies. We indulge in oysters, nuts and scalloped potatoes and green bean casseroles and pumpkin pies. We prepare for family and friends and for blessed solitude. We pick up a big, fat book to read. We watch a long series on television about heroic deeds of our ancestors.
The election almost over we now breathe a deep sigh of relief. We increase our time for meditation, we pray in earnest for peace. We snuggle down in the long dark mornings and go to bed early on the long dark evenings. We cherish the cat on our lap, the dog at our feet, the birds at the feeder, the children who come into our lives, the elders who need to hear from us. We send alms to the poor and reach out to the lonely. We look into our hearts and find the Divine is there. We give thanks again and again for breath and life and love. This is the festival of Thanksgiving that is given to us as a gift. Happy Thanksgiving!
Photo by Edward Scheps