Tag: Thanksgiving

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Celebrating Life, Observing Thanksgiving

On this day last year, we were waking up in Plymouth, Massachusetts and heading to Plimoth-Patuxet Museum to have Thanksgiving Dinner in the spot where the Pilgrims and Native Americans had it for the first time all those years ago. It was a highlight of our trip through New England on the heels of the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Convention, which was held in Boston in 2024.

After the end of the conference, when Ada Limon had delivered the final keynote speech, we’d taken the ferry back across Boston Harbor to the airport and rented a car. We headed up to Kennebunkport, Maine for a night, then across New Hampshire to Woodstock, Vermont for a night, then to West Chesterfield, New Hampshire, and finally to Plymouth each for a night before completing the loop back to Boston, turning in the car, and flying home. We still talk about the fun we had on that trip, just the two of us, seeing New England by car.

Yesterday, true to small town living, we were out at our local Ace Hardware Store buying ten bales of pine straw to go by the shrubs in the front bed when we saw Briar’s brother standing in front of the only grocery store in town, holding his bag of heavy whipping cream and a Coca Cola in a bottle and talking with a friend. He ambled over to the car, where we sat reminiscing on the trip we’d taken down Route 66 a few summers ago. Along with his wife, the four of us had rented a car at Midway Airport just below Chicago and embarked on the journey, completing half of Route 66, which runs from Illinois to California, and flying home from Albuquerque after one full week of a carefully-segmented trip that allowed time for taking in the main sights we’d wanted to see.

We need to finish that trip, his brother said, and we both agreed.

This Thanksgiving is different. We were supposed to be camping on our favorite campground in one of our favorite sites, but vertigo got in the way of being able to pack the camper and keep the reservation. It got in the way of shopping and doing anything other than being still all week. We cancelled our camping plans, and I took to my favorite chair with Audible as the great world spun all week. At least when I’m down and out, I can have some sense of normalcy through story – – and travel, vicariously. This week, I’m at the Maple Sugar Inn spending time with the ladies in the Book Club Hotel. They haven’t read a single page in their book club yet, but these characters do have some interesting lives.

I’ll hit pause on my book around 10:00 to shower and dress, and to meet my husband’s brother and his wife at a Cracker Barrel an hour away from our home deep in rural Georgia. None of us felt like cooking – and even the thought of all the bending involved in cooking and baking sends me spinning in orbit. It’s simply not the year for that.

It’s a year for being home and taking it easy – going nowhere that involves a suitcase, letting others cook, and savoring the simple pleasures of home. A day for sitting next to the fire under the flannel blanket we bought last year at The Vermont Flannel Company in Woodstock, all warm and comfortable, counting my blessings. It’s a day to reflect on the week we spent in October in the mountains of Tennessee with our children and grandchildren, and a day to call and wish them a Happy Thanksgiving as they celebrate this day with other family members.

And it’s a day to remember those who are no longer with us. Mom left us in 2015, but this will be our first Thanksgiving without Dad. It’s a game changer when both parents are gone. I miss all those who taught me how to observe holidays and to be able to appreciate them without the rigid anchors of tradition making them feel any less special. Today’s quiet stillness and Cracker Barrel dinner is every bit as meaningful as last year’s dinner in Plymouth.

and so I sit in

my green chair, reflecting on

Thanksgivings past while

counting my blessings ~

browsing Kindle, Audible

for my next great trip

because over rolls

turkey and cranberry sauce

and pecan pie, we’ll

talk books, and that’s a

festive way to celebrate

~ turning the pages ~

Last Year’s Table Setting

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November 21: A 6-7 Kenning

Last weekend, we wrote kennings with Mo Daley of Illinois as part of the November Open Write through http://www.ethicalela.com. A Slice of Life blog inspired 6-7 poems in last week’s post. I combined two forms today: a kenning in 6-7 format (six words, seven words) as I think ahead to our Thanksgiving plan next week. Since we spent time with all of our children in for a week in October, they will be spending time with other family members during Thanksgiving this year. We’ll be in a camper in a state park in a back corner campsite with a fire going, the dogs in their portable pen, and books in our laps in our camp chairs. Hopefully, there will be warm blankets involved to guard against the chill of the air.

What will we be reading? My husband will be finishing Killing the Legends by Bill O’Reilly, and starting Killing the Mob by the same author. I’ll be finishing The Salt Stones: Seasons of a Shepherd’s Life by Helen Whybrow, and starting the next book my book club will be reading. We drew a slip at our monthly meeting last night from everyone’s suggestions to determine the next club choice: The Book Club Hotel by Sarah Morgan.

We’ll duck quietly into a favorite local restaurant in the area where we will be staying, and we’ll prepare to-go plates of turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, and all the fixings on Thanksgiving Day, then return to our hideaway to eat by the fire. We will be feeling grateful, blessed, and relaxed. Since we were all together with all the kids and grandkids in October for a glorious week in the mountains, we won’t have the feeling that we should be anywhere else. Finally, after Dad’s death in June and all the long weekends of travel to his home on the coast to clean out storage rooms and have sales, we will be able to enjoy some much needed down time for the better part of a week.

And for this, we are ever so grateful.

Thanksgiving 6-7 Kenning

we’ll dwell in a forest-castle

get lost in page-turners by the fire

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Storied Recipes

One of Dad’s favorite books was Pat Conroy’s cookbook. I think the reason he liked it so much was that as a teller of stories, Dad found a story about food with every recipe Pat Conroy shared. This was no ordinary cookbook – – it was food for the mind and food for the body. Food with history. Food with heritage. Food to delight the senses and the curiosity. Stories were the appetizer and carried conversation into the main meal.

I thought of our family a lot over the weekend – especially as I was at BJ Reece Cider Company in Ellijay, sampling the ciders and tasted one that was perfectly flavored with mulling spices. I said to my husband, “I like this one, but only for October and November – not June or July.” At first, he’d wondered what I meant. After tasting it, he licked his lips and said, “Ah, yes. I see what you mean.” This cider was called Apple Pie and was described as the perfect sipping cider for sweater weather. They weren’t kidding.

One sip of this cider brought memories of times we gathered at Dad’s sister’s house for Thanksgiving. Mom and Aunt Ann would make us Instant Russian Tea so the cousins could all sip on something while the adults had their own special drinks that made them laugh loudly. Back in the 1970s when Tang Breakfast Drink was all the rage, Mom and Aunt Ann would make a pot of this tea and send all the cousins down to the basement to play board games on the big table while the men gathered around the television for football and the women camped out in the kitchen catching up.

Here is the recipe from my Aunt Ann Downing for Instant Russian Tea.

2 c. Tang

2 c. sugar

1/2 c. instant tea

2 pkgs. lemon Kool-Aid, unsweetened

1 t. cinnamon

1 t. ground cloves

1 t. allspice

Mix and store in air-tight container, and use 2 heaping tsp. per cup, or to taste.

Instant Russian Tea

we celebrated kid-style

clinked cups with cousins

Now that both Mom and Dad are gone, only the memories remain. I’m thankful for those ~ they are what will carry us forward to sustain us. I smiled and closed my eyes for a moment, remembering just a week ago when the cousins all came for Dad’s Celebration of Life. We clinked wine glasses this time, and we are grateful that we are still clinking.

Our parents taught us well.

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Plimoth-Patuxet Thanksgiving Dinner

House in the Pilgrim Colony

After traveling the final leg of our loop around New England on Wednesday afternoon from West Chesterfield, New Hampshire to Plymouth, Massachusetts, we visited the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum sites on Wednesday and Thursday. Our first stop was to Plymouth Rock, and our second was to the Mayflower II. At these exhibits, we learned a little more about the history of the voyage the Pilgrims made – the risks they took and the price they paid.

Realistic role-playing Pilgrim

On Thursday, we visited the Pilgrim colony and shared in the Thanksgiving Dinner right in the area where the first Thanksgiving dinner was held. We were pleased that a historian was sharing the history with us so that we could hear accurate accounts from primary sources. We were also impressed that the Pilgrim village was created with historical accuracy, with role-playing realistic Pilgrims who go about their village and house chores while inviting questions and observations from visitors. We even saw a real goose being cooked on a spit and a mother Pilgrim teaching her son some culinary skills.

A mother teaches her son culinary skills ~ note the goose fat dripping from the spit.

The Pilgrims spoke with the accents and language of their time, and answered any questions from those witnessing their chores and conversations.

This pilgrim is describing how they kept the fire burning.

I entered one of the homes to find a young man seated by the fire wearing a tan vest and keeping warm. It was miserably cold and raining on this Thanksgiving holiday as we walked outdoors bundled up with umbrellas, thankful we both had waterproof shoes. I told him I thought he had the best seat in the house. He asked if I had any questions.

“Just one,” I replied. “Did anyone ever feel safe?”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, considering this before responding, “What a question!”

After a pause, he replied that they did feel safe, because their strong faith in the Lord depended on their ultimate faith in him, and whatever consequence brought about was by His provisioning.

Satisfied, I thought about the 2-month voyage that they had taken across the Atlantic Ocean – risking it all in the name of religious freedom – and concluded that he was probably right. He seemed to be answering from the perspective of safety of belief, whereas my question was more from a physical context in terms of Native tribes and wild animals, having seen the guns and cannons in the meeting house that afforded lookout-level views outside the gated village.

“Did anyone ever feel safe?” is the question I asked of this colonist.

At 2:30, we found our table with our place cards and met the others who would be seated at our table. There were three other couples and two children eating with us. After some introductions, we began sipping our cider and passing the plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes as appetizers. Our meal menu was inspired by the 1863 Thanksgiving meal served to students at Harvard University. In the museum, there is a timeline and display that sequences the progression of the Thanksgiving meal from the 17th century to today, along with the types of dishes and utensils that would have been used at each meal.

Visitors have two options for the Thanksgiving meals served at Plymouth-Patuxet Museum. The choices include a buffet meal served at The Craft House or a plated meal with formal dining served in the Visitor Center. The formal dinner includes The Story of Thanksgiving, told by the chief historian as a narrative along with a member of the Wampanoag tribe and a Pilgrim descendant. This is the meal we chose, simply because with so much controversy often surrounding this holiday, we wanted to seek understanding of the facts from a historian’s explanation of what really happened. The reading of the land honorarium was a meaningful part of the meal, along with the customary toast given.

My plated meal before I added cranberry sauce to go with the dressing hiding under the turkey
The customary toast, given by the chief historian at Plimoth-Patuxet Museums


After a traditional toast before dessert, the museum had one more offering in store for Thanksgiving guests. Even though we had planned to get on the road back to Boston at the conclusion of our meal, we took advantage of the opportunity to see Wicked at the Linn Theater at 4:30 before making the drive to Boston to turn in our rental car and check into our room for the night.

The later arrival into Boston was more than worth making the time to see the movie! Already, we are talking about the next time we can go back and enjoy more of New England.

But nothing……nothing……not one thing……compares to arriving back home. A great vacation, for us, is one that we don’t want to end – while at the same time looking forward to being back in our own space, back in our own bed. It’s one that cultivates a deep appreciation for other places and people while at the same time making us more grateful for our own little corner of the world and our strong sense of belonging we feel in it.

So from my writing chair this morning, by my own fire with its modern gas logs that simply require me to push a button to feel the warmth and see the light of its flames, I wish you all the adventures of travel and the comforts of home.

We’re blessed to experience the ride!

My writing chair this morning, 11/30/2024
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Gladys Taber and November

Indian Pudding

a new recipe to try

for Thanksgiving Day

My father, an avid book collector, introduced me to Gladys Taber’s writing years ago, and I fell in love with her instantly. He has always had the uncanny knack of matchmaking book lovers with books that become favorites.

Sometimes I like to go to my collection on the shelf of my reading room and pull a Taber book and read random passages. Many of her books are organized by month or season, so I find that no matter where I land in her seasonal offerings that mirror mine on our farm in Georgia, I am there – right there with her – in Southbury, Connecticut.

From Still Cove Journal: November

“November is a month when the chill blustery days and long cold nights are hard on dieters. Green salads are fine on hot summer days. but the very sound of the wind from the Atlantic against the big window makes me think of a real breakfast of sausage and buttermilk pancakes with first-run golden maple syrup. By suppertime I forget I am a non-dessert eater, and when I go out to eat, I often order Indian Pudding. I have had many very fine puddings, but almost never an authentic Indian Pudding. So I like to share the recipe my mother and grandmother used:

Bring 4 cups of milk to a boil in the top of a double boiler. Gently stir in 1/3 c. yellow cornmeal and cook 15 minutes. Add 1 cup dark molasses and remove from heat. Add 1/4 c. butter, a teaspoon each of salt, cinnamon, and ginger and 1/2 c. seedless raisins. Place the batter in a greased baking dish. Then pour 1 cup cold milk over it. Bake in a slow oven for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Serve with hard sauce or cream or even vanilla ice cream.

The main thing about the real Indian pudding is the cup of cold milk poured over…..”

I’ve never made Indian pudding, but it sounds divine. I’m making a shopping list now to try it, perhaps for our Thanksgiving lunch at the office a week from Tuesday. There’s something magical about an old recipe that seems to conjure up the spirits of those long dead and welcome them back to the present. If we ever do discover time travel, I’m fully convinced that the portal will be through an old recipe box, long forgotten, hidden in the corner of an attic, and one that comes alive like Frosty the Snowman’s magical hat.

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A Hike Through F. D. Roosevelt State Park

Boo Radley, Ollie, and Fitz hiking the red and white trails of FDR State Park in Georgia. I do not own the rights to this music.

Our time on this Thanksgiving getaway is coming to a close for now, but instead of starting the campsite breakdown as we normally do on the last afternoon of our camping adventures, we took an impromptu hike with the boys on the trails of F. D. Roosevelt State Park in Pine Mountain, Georgia. I’m sharing a video of their tail-wagging joy as Boo Radley, Ollie, and Fitz traversed the terrain.

We met another couple hiking, and the wife observed, “Looks like you have your own sled dog team!” I chuckled because I am always referring to them as our sled dogs. When my sister in law walked them with me this week, she was surprised by how hard they pull. I told her that if there were snow on the ground, we could put on skis and they’d pull us all around the campground. Truth.

Our Georgia State Parks offer different types of clubs for kayakers, canyon climbers, dog walkers, and cyclists. Tails on Trails seems like it would be a healthy challenge for the two humans belonging to these three canine trail enthusiasts for 2024, so already I’m thinking of working it into a yearly goal.

As we sat around the campfire last night, I turned on the green sparkle lights and watched them dancing like tiny fairies in the trees as I reflected on what I loved most about the week- being able to get away and enjoy time in nature with family, spending time with each other and with our dogs, and truly taking time to give thanks for our blessings. Time. Togetherness. Thanksgiving.

These are the parts of the week that meant the most to me.

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Gratitude on Thanksgiving Day

Lately, I’ve been rereading Gladys Taber’s books, just for the sheer comfort they bring. I can slip through the veil of now and step back in time, to a day when things seemed simpler and more appreciated. My wish for you today is that you find a deep inner peace, full of gratitude for the simple joys on this Thanksgiving Day. Whether you share it with a multitude of people or alone, take time to reflect on the blessings!

This is from Stillmeadow Sampler.

Thanksgiving should be a time of prayer, of feeling humble, and of reaffirming our faith in God. When the grandchildren are propped up on the dictionary and encyclopedia and reach for a turkey wing, I look at them, and pray quietly that they may live in a world at peace.

***

But when I was growing up, the feast itself was more important. We never tasted turkey except at Thanksgiving, that was what turkey was meant for. We dreamed of it, rich, brown, savory with chestnut stuffing. The quivering cranberry sauce was only for Thanksgiving, too, and oh, the giblet gravy and the glazed onions and fluffy mashed turnips! Turkey for Thanksgiving was as special as the orange in the toe of the stocking at Christmas.

…

After grace is said, there is always a moment of silence at our table. What grave thoughts go through the minds of the younger folk I shall never know, but they have a quiet look. I think of all the Thanksgivings past, and of all the hopes for the future. Then the carving knife makes the first slice, and yes, the turkey is exactly done, tender, moist, rich. And pass the giblet gravy at once.

…

Later on, the table cleared and the dishwasher blessedly running, we can add an apple log to the fire and sit toasting our toes against the November chill, while the bowl of apples and nuts goes around and one of the family brings out the old corn popper. And I am always amazed at the fact that no matter how big the dinner is, around dark the younger members of the family get that hungry look again.

…

When the house quiets down, I have a glass of hot milk. Then I say my prayers and give my thanks to God who still makes Thanksgiving possible. On Thanksgiving night, I pray a long while for everyone all over the world who may not have a Thanksgiving.

***

These are words written on Taber’s farm in Connecticut 7 decades ago. I think of my own days of growing up, when grandparents came to our house and we ate at high noon, making memories with cousins and other family all afternoon. Board games, movies, desserts, and making Christmas wish lists (we did not wish for oranges).

Today, we are in a state park in Georgia and will later be joined by a few family members. We’ll eat our Thanksgiving feast in the early afternoon, hike a bit, and sit around the campfire sharing stories and sipping coffee and hot chocolate. And absolutely – we will roast marshmallows.

Be sure to check in tomorrow when I’ll share how to cook a Thanskgiving feast while camping, right down to a perfectly browned turkey. (And I don’t have an oven here).

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Reflections on a Slice of Pumpkin Bread with Coffee

“Today, make discovering those joyful simplicities that bring you personal comfort and a sense of well-being one of your highest priorities.” – Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy

Pumpkin Bread from Christmas 2022

At my bridal shower in 1985 given by the ladies of First Baptist Church of St. Simons Island, Georgia, I received a lot of cookbooks and tried-and-true recipe cards. The ladies in that church who had practically helped raise me were tremendous cooks, and I was over-the-moon thrilled to have a coveted collection of the recipes that gave me an inkling of hope of being like them in the kitchen.

Over the years, from the beginning of my young married life through raising children and even through divorce and remarriage, one recipe was an instant hit and remains a family favorite through it all. I make it only during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays to keep it sacred and anticipated. When I visited one of our daughters who lives 6 hours away for Christmas 2022, she had already told many of her friends, “I hope my mom brings her pumpkin bread.” When she introduced me to them, I wasn’t surprised to hear that my pumpkin bread reputation had preceded me!

Times shared together when everyone has gathered during the carefree, unrushed holidays around a table or in small sitting areas with coffee and conversation, where candles flicker and the clinking of forks on tiny plates adds to the joy of togetherness against the backdrop of a football game on TV, where children play games and watch a parade, where family news is being shared and good books are being discussed and political views are not~ ~ ~ that’s pumpkin bread season. For anyone who pursues the Danish concept of hygge, pumpkin bread is at the top of the list. It works its comforting magic and hits the spot!

Today, I share the recipe for the pumpkin bread that has been our tradition for nearly 40 years. I’ll also add that it freezes well. Sometimes I split the loaf into two large loaves, but sometimes I make mini loaves so that my husband can take one to work for breakfast each day throughout the week. I fill pans about 2/3 full so that it gives room to rise, and I adjust my baking times for size. When there is one tiny bit of uncooked dough in the top of the rise, I remove it from the oven and allow it to finish cooking in its own heat during the cooling process. If freezing, I wrap in foil and place in a Ziploc bag once cooled.

Recipe for Pumpkin Bread II from the cookbook Frederica Fare:

One of my daughters likes her pumpkin bread with whipped cream cheese spread between two slices.