I was thinking of you.
Here’s our bounty, two eggs collected this morning
from hens that visited our place and decided to stay. The plant sprigs are from
our yard, Nandina domestica, one of the few botanical names I remember
from Botany class.
That’s the extent of home-grown around here. I joined
the rank and file who harvested at Costco.
You probably won’t have time to read this on
Thanksgiving Day. Right now, our turkey’s in the oven, and I’m taking a break.
I wanted to tell you I’m thankful for you.
And I have decided on my next year’s Thanksgiving
celebration: An Oregon excursion to photograph wild turkeys.
Forget the turkey in the oven.
Who do you suppose
brought the first turkey to the first Thanksgiving meal?
Wild turkeys live in our
area. We saw them in Hawaii too, and, when we lived in Marcola, a little town outside
Eugene, Oregon, we had one old guy who was turning silver.
On occasion in Marcola,
we would see a small gaggle of turkeys, along with the neighborhood peacock
traveling together, with him adding elegance to the tribe.
That in was a forested area,
and it was fun seeing a mamma hen and her chicks scrambling up and embankment,
and slipping under a fence while the Momma did a flyover.
Turkeys
and peacocks and I go way back, and we have another neighborhood peacock here
in Junction City—but I haven't seen him for a few weeks. I trust he’ll be back probably
after he grows out new feathers. The last time I saw him, he was tailless.
In Temecula,
California, I fed turkeys for our
landlord for a few months before we moved away, and they would send up a choirs
of gobbles when they heard my voice. A few got themselves in trouble, though,
greeting a coyote by sticking their heads through the fence.
I was surprised to learn
that the founding fathers considered the turkey for our national bird, but
decided the Bald Eagle was more stately, smarter probably too.
Yesterday we pulled the
dining table into the living room, and we will be eating in front of the
fireplace. Yesterday the cold weather called for the fireplace, today it’s sunny
tee-shirt temperature.
My flag-ship Thanksgiving
was in Marcola, I got up at 4 a.m. to prepare the turkey, and I thought of all
the women who are filling their tables with turkeys, cranberries and such. I
felt like a pioneer.
That day, after the
turkey was in the oven, my husband and I drove to the airport to pick up our
daughter, who lived in California, and on the way, I saw the lights coming on
in the houses, more women in the kitchen, more turkeys and gravy.
I hope your day is or
was splendid.
Now, with left-overs, let’s
have another Thanksgiving dinner that can’t be beat.
Well, Howdy.