Thanksgiving 2014

Family, food, fire and firearms!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Proper Timing

repost from the archives (circa 2011)

 

In Boston, one day, she had an unusual experience.  While Papa and Auntie Hoyt waited out of sight somewhere, she had to go by herself into a large room in a department store and listen to someone dressed up like Santa Claus read a Christmas story and 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.  This seemed odd to her for at Thanksgiving time, she was not ready for Santa Claus.  In Cranbury they got through the turkeys and the pumpkins and the Pilgrims before they brought out the Santa Clauses.  She was quite relieved when the whole occasion was over and instead of being abandoned, she found Papa and Auntie Hoyt waiting, beaming, at the door.

Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes

Bare

One of my favorite things about fall is watching our gingko tree change.

 

yesterday

 Rather rapidly the leaves transform from green to chartreuse to brilliant gold.

today

And even more rapidly, they are gone. 

(In this case, the artic blast stripped her bare overnight).

RIP Bobby

My fur brother is no more.

He lived to a ripe old age of 16 1/2, and while he did grow a bit crotchety in his old age, I'll always remember "Bobby and the other Bobby" circa 2007.

Freezeframe

You know, all those people are right:  the days fly by.

The days that seemed to stretch forever suddenly slip through your fingers.  In a blink, they are gone.

Matthew's comment stung:  "You don't come outside to play."

In his mind, food magically appears and clothes are automatically clean if they make it to the hamper.

Still, it made me determined to make the effort to go out of doors to play.

To swing the kids.  Each. In. Turn.

To admire the frog.

To discover the bugs.

To supervise the bikers.

To enjoy the beauty of the season.

To watch something else work for awhile.

To smile as the sixth pair of feet make this little train go.

For one day, the little toys will be left forgotten in a toy chest.

But today, childhood is at its best and memories are ready for the making.

Little Orphan Josie

She's certainly perfected the look of a waif with her scraggly hair, dirty face and oversized clothes.  

Now she has the story to go with it.

She invited me to her "house" today and shared her tale of woe.

"(Sniff)  My mother, she is dead and killed.  (Sniff)  My father was killed by soldiers and is dead.  (Pause, gulp).  My grandmother is dead and killed.  (Sniff, sniff, shake head)  My grandfather is killed by soldiers and is dead.  (Sniff)."