The more things change...

We remember, vaguely, when we were young and first married, the holiday hassle of deciding whose family got visited when for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Later, when we were the family of origin for our children, Thanksgiving and Christmas were celebrated at "our" house. Next week's Thanksgiving is to be convened at the Daughter Person and Son-In-Law's new home. Somehow, we don't think that going to their place will bring us back to the feeling of being young and newly married, but we may be misjudging.

neither domestic nor heritage, but wild

Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half has promised to cook our own much smaller turkey and fixin's so we'll have the good smells and the pleasures of leftovers after Thanksgiving. Then, on Thanksgiving Friday, we'll be in Taylors Falls for the Lighting Festival parade. See what we meant yesterday when we mentioned in our posting a reference to all the excitement at holidays' time?

Taylors Falls Lighting Celebration decorations

Photo by J. Harrington

Other events also come about this time each year. We have to haul the snow blower out, see if it starts, or, most likely, haul it off to our local small engine tune up shop for some TLC. Each and every Spring we're never sure when it's safe to turn off the gas line valve and run the engine dry. That's what comes from living somewhere that it can snow eleven months a year. We are grateful for the changing seasons and the beautiful country we live in despite a dreaded possibility of snow almost anytime.

we hope we'll be watched over by a Christmas angel

This Christmas we'll be back to being empty nesters. We haven't yet discussed with the Better Half the prospect of getting a Christmas tree that doesn't require a crane to put up in the living room. Over the years we've accumulated enough keepsake ornaments that we keep needing a bigger tree to hold them all. The Daughter Person is supposed to be inheriting some of the keepsakes so we may survive putting up our tree without crippling or maiming ourselves. And this year although we won't be limited to, we will be able to enjoy with the Better Half, a

Thanksgiving for Two

By Marjorie Saiser

The adults we call our children will not be arriving 

with their children in tow for Thanksgiving. 

We must make our feast ourselves, 

slice our half-ham, indulge, fill our plates, 

potatoes and green beans 

carried to our table near the window.

We are the feast, plenty of years, 

arguments. I’m thinking the whole bundle of it 

rolls out like a white tablecloth. We wanted 

to be good company for one another. 

Little did we know that first picnic 

how this would go. Your hair was thick, 

mine long and easy; we climbed a bluff 

to look over a storybook plain. We chose 

our spot as high as we could, to see

the river and the checkerboard fields. 

What we didn’t see was this day, in 

our pajamas if we want to, 

wrinkled hands strong, wine

in juice glasses, toasting 

whatever’s next, 

the decades of side-by-side, 

our great good luck.

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