The sun finally came out today. It has been rainy and cold. But we are grateful! For our health, our homes, friendship, family, jobs, animals, the natural world. For smells, stars, gardens, the moon tonight and ancestors. For the eggs we collected this weekend from two separate family flocks here in Lincoln. For the walk through Lindentree Farm a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) now shut up tight for winter, hay on fields, tractors stored away.
The Thanksgiving feast is a meal comprised of ingredients that are from the local harvest. Cranberries are from bogs on Cape Cod, a free range turkey from Vermont, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, green beans, all from New England fields. This is how the early settlers ate. Ideally we should eat food that is grown locally, not foods shipped from around the globe. Food transportation is a contributer to global warming. Planes and trucks emit large amounts of carbon into the atmosphere. It is also good to know where the food you eat comes from and the conditions under which it was grown and harvested. I recently watched the film Food, Inc so this on my mind.
One hundred years ago, an orange was a covetted Christmas gift (think of the books Little House in the Big Woods and Little Women) Now I understand why! An orange had to travel far to get there in the days when they only ate what they had canned or meat they had smoked. The burst of an orange in your mouth after months of stored food must have been amazing. We are lucky to have such variety available to us year round. But although the produce may look good, the taste is often a disappointment. I have decided not to buy tomatoes this winter. The taste is nothing like that of a warm, sweet August tomato picked off the vine. I'll settle for canned.
People are hungry. Food pantries are running out of food. I have never had to worry about whether I would have enough food to eat. For that I am grateful. I hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving!
4 comments:
I was in Southampton at the home of my daughter's lesbian fiance with my girlfriend, enjoying a meal prepared by my former wife while enjoying their new dog Button.
Life is indeed good.
Food is fun.... it brings people together to celebrate. Thanksgiving is my favorite.
Our story was simple. Three generations at grandmother's house. Football, turkey, frozen peas, potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie!
Wash the dishes....
And then home. Perfect!
Then the second best part:
Turkey sandwiches on Friday!
Glad we're all so fortunate! And able to be thankful for our families, our health and our safety.
On closer peering, did I notice the ROWAN tree front and center. a/k/a the mountain or silver ash front and center? Good luck to all that pass?
Ah, the generational spirit!
This is what Billy Collins has to say about what you're writing about. I am reminded of living on the farm. One Thanksgiving we hate everything from our farm: leg of lamb, squash, tomatoes, potatoes, stuffing,cherry compote, apple cider, apple and pumpkin pies....and really terrible homemade wine. Pretty good foodprint wouldn't you say! And now for Billy Collins. I'm thankful for poets.
As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse
I pick an orange from a wicker basket
and place it on the table
to represent the sun.
Then down at the other end
a blue and white marble
becomes the earth
and nearby I lay the little moon of an aspirin.
I get a glass from a cabinet,
open a bottle of wine,
then I sit in a ladder-back chair,
a benevolent god presiding
over a miniature creation myth,
and I begin to sing
a homemade canticle of thanks
for this perfect little arrangement,
for not making the earth too hot or cold
not making it spin too fast or slow
so that the grove of orange trees
and the owl become possible,
not to mention the rolling wave,
the play of clouds, geese in flight,
and the Z of lightning on a dark lake.
Then I fill my glass again
and give thanks for the trout,
the oak, and the yellow feather,
singing the room full of shadows,
as sun and earth and moon
circle one another in their impeccable orbits
and I get more and more cockeyed with gratitude.
~ Billy Collins ~
(Nine Horses)
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