thanksgiving, very late.

this week, i've been away, at an event connecting with former colleagues and distant friends. a few folks pointed out that i'd made no mention of thanksgiving here and they are right. this is the closest i'll get - to the photo i uploaded, then forgot about...packing away all things fall before i left, so i'd be free to bring on christmas when i returned. 

the older i get, the more thanksgiving becomes my favorite holiday. it's about family and gratitude, a quiet pause before changing seasons. this year, it was an especially emotional one for me and i'm not sure why. i missed my parents, gone now for many years, more than i usually do. as the little girl and i shared our traditional thanksgiving preparations, i found myself so aware of the fact that she's growing up too quickly for me and our special times are likely to change in the next years. later i watched in awe and admiration as friends and neighbors lost power in an awful snowstorm, drove for hours on horrible roads to be with their loved ones, and found celebratory ways to give thanks anyway. i laid awake at night and wondered why i've been so damned lucky my whole life. 

and on a brighter note, i sprung for a fresh turkey. i brined it. and it was fantastic. 

the mighty oak

walking up from the mailbox this frosty morning, i stop to marvel at an oak leaf standing upright in the grass, backlit by the sun. and i'm delighted when it doesn't topple over as i hurry inside to fetch my camera. 

mid-november garden

oh, the things you find when you are sooo very late in putting your summer gardens to bed...

a cocoon, or an egg sack of some sort, firmly attached to the leaf of an obedient plant. wispy yet dense, something's in there, warm and cozy and waiting for spring. 

in the daylily bed, what looks like new growth, already begun. it always amazes me that there can be the thrill of such a brilliant green during this month of drab browns.

more growth - male holly flowers, budded in autumn during a warm spell. there's no time to bloom now. 

beautiful, intricate pods, these from the small morning glories, still tangled around the trellis. i'll let the seeds fall where they may, and i'll hope for small spring miracles. 

this tiny oak, smack in the middle of a clump of tightly-packed irises. it must have been there since spring. this unfortunately speaks to my weeding routine - or lack of it. 

the missing rocket balloon from august, wrapped around the stem of a columbine. so that's where it landed!

and on the bench, a scattering of pine cone bracts. some small hungry animal has been foraging, preparing for a winter which is coming soon.