The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 17: All these New Conveniences Part 3

Every morning when I wake up, I lie in bed for a few minutes planning my day. I decide what major chore will take up the best part of the day, and what small things I can get accomplished simultaneously. I can remember my mother saying (in a rather sing songy way) "man must work from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done." I never knew the truth of that statement until I was actually running a home of my own. I figured when I was in school that homework took up the majority of time, but I loved school and homework was no biggy. The last thing my mother always did was put in a load of laundry and while it washed the clothes, she washed the kitchen floor. Laundry always seemed to be the one job that we all disliked the most. For the life of me, I can't figure out why. But this is the same routine I follow and always have.

Now, Mama had a nice washer and dryer, a front loader both. Once when complaints about doing laundry were heard, she took us to visit our Aunt Florence Sellers on the Monday Wash Day and dropped us off. We loved Aunt Florence and Uncle May (not a typo, so no red pencils please) so visiting them was pure joy to us. Uncle May had a good sized bamboo field across from the house (they made the greatest fishing poles) and we liked to run thru the bamboo field, swinging the big stalks to the ground. If it was work, we didn't know it. But on this day, Aunt Florence was on the back porch, the big old wringer washing machine agitating the first load of clothes. She had a big tub on the bench next to the washer, and in it were white shirts soaking in a bleach solution. The scrub board lay next to the tub. We watched as the water was pumped out of the basin of the tub and she grabbed big water heavy work pants and fed them through the wringer to get as much of the water out as possible. This was time consuming back breaking work. Of course it beat taking the clothes down to the river to wash, but not by much. I am so thankful for my nice modern washer and dryer every single time I go back and revisit the memory of washing clothes with Aunt Florence.

This day, and I was probably about six years old, she asked me if I wanted to help. Of course I did. I was always game to try anything she might suggest. Climbing up on the bench so I could bend over and reach into the basin, I picked up a comparatively light article of clothing (I think it was a pair of her ginormous step- ins) and while trying to feed the cloth into the "mangle", promptly got my arm, (step-ins and all,) caught in the wringer. There was much wailing and screeching going on (and that was just Aunt Florence) and then Uncle May came running out on the porch. He reached over and unplugged the washer and disconnected the wringer somehow (he'd done that before. I could tell by the swift way he got me loose from the thing). I sat in his lap while he petted and prodded the arm and told me that it was going to be okay. Aunt Florence told me I was making a big thing out of it, but I could tell it had scared her, too. After all, my mother had left me in her care with two perfectly good arms and legs, it wouldn't do to return me any less perfect that I had arrived.

Oddly enough, when I'm telling this, I can see them both so clearly and even hear their voices, that funny little hitch in Uncle May's laughter, that high pitched voice of Aunt Florence's. The only other time that happens is when I think about the time Uncle May's mule kicked me. But that's another story all together, and I'll tell it another day.

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 16: What makes me happy and thankful today

What makes me happy and thankful today? Most (99%) of my readers make me happy. They read what I have to say and add to my memories with memories of their own. You are always fun and cheerful or if you're not well you tell me and ask for prayer. Rarely are you critical of what I have to say. But since they are my memories, I don't know why anyone would feel the need to criticize them anyway. I have one reader who bothers me. I have yet to read a comment from him that was not hateful and frankly disturbing. One post the other day had a comment on it that was so graphically violent that I worried about my ten year old Granddaughter reading it. I deleted it as soon as I found it and hoped that would be the end of it. Today's comment on Post 15, while not violent, was equally hateful. Again, I removed it from my blog. I am not going to be forced into changing my way of posting. I shouldn't have to. So, today I am thankful for the delete button. It will be used as often as I need to take advantage of its powers. If it says "comment removed by a blog administrator" then you know that I am being so very very thankful at the express moment my finger hits the delete key!

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 15: All these new contraptions Part 2

It seems that something new comes along every five minutes. Have you noticed that as soon as you get your computer humming, along comes a new program that makes what you're using totally obsolete? Nothing maddens Mac more than that. When he bought me my new laptop, it came with a certificate for the new Windows 7...we've come to expect these changes, often putting off a purchase til the "new edition" has the bugs worked out of it.

What I am most thankful for today has to do with cooking. I can remember my grandmother's big electric range that took up a good part of the kitchen. But sitting squat and black in a corner was the little Franklin stove, the one that had the fire laid in it every night before bed, so that all it needed was a match when her feet hit the floor. The Franklin stove heated the kitchen, cooked the grits and warmed the chilled little bodies that dressed before it, getting ready to catch the school bus. The electric range made the biscuits and cooked the roast, fried the chicken, baked the cakes and transformed little rounds of sweet dough into cookies that melted in your mouth.

Then, along came this young upstart, the Microwave. Everyone raved about it, what a marvelous invention it was, how it was transforming kitchens the world over. Microwave cook books came out with tips on how to use this marvelous new invention so that your bread didn't need an icepick to break it apart for eating. Thing is, I never figured out how to cook one darned thing in one that tasted nearly as good as what I cooked on my electric range...or the wonderful Aga gas range that I had when we lived in England. But you know, sometimes I want a cup of tea faster than the range can do it, at times like that I'm thankful for my darling little microwave...but for the life of me, I can't figure out any other useful purpose for it! One day it's going to make a wonderful little planter.

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 14: All the new conveniences...day 1

So here we are, in the near middle of the Thanksgiving Challenge thrown by Leah at Southbreeze Farm. I was wondering last night what I was going to post about when a call from Good Sister answered my question. After a few minutes of general "whatcha doing" conversation, before we rang off, she asked what we were going to watch on TV tonight. I replied that with so many channels to choose from I'd just do a little surfing till something caught my fancy.

And there in lies a post.

When I was growing up we had only a few of the wonderful appliances in our home that we have now. We had an electric range, a refrigerator, a TV and radio. My parents had a stereo which we were under no circumstances ever to touch. EVER. My dad had three remote controls, their names were Holly, Sandi and Toni. Sometimes he conveniently combined our three names to Holsanton to make sure he got at least one little body to change the channel of the TV we could only watch one hour a day. We were also in the era of rabbit ears, and sometimes just the touch of our fingers on that contraption would make the picture come in clearer and if it was a news item, we had to stand there for a while so that all the news he wanted to hear could be seen, as well. Now, these days I have satellite, both TV and radio. If we lose picture on account of clouds, never mind, I have tivo'd 80 hours of entertainment in that event and we will never do without moving pictures on the screen. And I don't have to have Arianna stand with one hand on a rabbit ear, the other pointed out sharply north east to ensure a perfectly crisp image. What a world. What a life. So, today I am thankful for my dish...how did we ever get along without it? Funny though, last night we had to watch a movie on the DVD player because of all the 359 channels Dish offers at the lowly price of $()&.00 a month, nothing was on.

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 13: Tapestries

This morning I'm thinking about family. Not just close by wrap your arms around family, but family long gone, but never forgotten. Once I was the fifth generation in the photo shoot of Great-Great Grand, Great Grand, Grand, Parent and child...now suddenly I've jumped to second spot coming just after father, then me, then Michael and Wallace, now Arianna. Family has always been a strong contender in affections and I've learned so much from my forebears. Quilting I learned about from a Great-Grandmother and Grandmother, Great Aunts and Mother...I can see the big purple and narrow pink and white striped quilt that they were working on the morning my older sister pushed me off the porch, opening a gash in my head that required clamps to close. They wrapped me in that not quite completed quilt to rush me off to Dr. Newsome's, he of the "do you want the apple or the nickel" fame. (The correct answer being the apple, then he'd give you both!) They didn't bother to take the pins out, either. Just wrapped and rolled and off we went. I have to say that the stinging little pains in arms and legs took my mind off the blood pouring down my face. My Great Grandmother, Little Granny Merriman, stern faced and knotted hair on the nape of her neck was yelling down the steps, "you didn't take the pins out, you're gonna kill that child! Try not to put her eye out!"

I used to love to watch my Grandmother roll her own cigarettes. She would open a can of Prince Albert, hold the paper deftly between two fingers, fill the channel with tobacco, lick one side and quickly close it around the sweet smelling blend, making a cylinder to hold the match to. Okay, I know it is a nasty habit, but back then no one knew how dangerous it could be , but to watch Mammy accomplish such a feat of magic...well, I was suitably impressed. Such dexterity of the fingers and hands she passed onto us that cats cradles and yoyoing came naturally. It's no wonder that stringing green tobacco onto sticks came so easily to us.

My Mother was a chef, pure and simple. There was nothing simple about her cooking and yet she made it look so easy that you wanted to try preparing every dish she ever mastered. Paula Deen and Julia Child had nothing on Mama. She could take the toughest of meats and give it the consistency of Fillet Mignon...and she could create Pavlova to rival the original. We all wanted to cook like her...sometimes we succeed. But not all her secrets were passed onto us. Most of the magic was in her soul and she took that with her when she left us.

Our families are a work of tapestry that can never be recreated. Each tapestry is unique to you, the added thread work that moves down the pattern will continue the thread of life that we are ever thankful for. So, for today I am most thankful for the Tapestry that is my family, with all its knots and silks...all it's mistakes and corrections. I thank them for the never completed work, that stitching that goes on and on into forever.

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 12: Rain Barrel Wealth

When I woke up this morning the sweet sound of rain was filling the room with comfort. No thunder, no lightening, very little wind...just the raindrops beating down on the roof and rolling off through the gutters to the rain barrels. It is absolutely amazing how much water can be collected from just a short rainfall. I remember hearing my mother talking about using rain water to rinse her hair. This was of course before conditioners in every fruit and flower known to man was on the shelves of even grocery stores. You know, lavender and chamomile, mango and blueberry...some of the descriptions of these conditioners could be mistaken for an entree at dinner, or a dessert.

We have our rain barrels set up to catch the water to tend to plants. Any water we save now will be used all winter long as needed so that we don't have to hook up hoses. I have been known to awaken in the middle of the night wondering if I disconnected a hose. Why worry? Well, in the event of a freeze, you run the risk of broken pipes if the hose isn't curled happily on the ground. And yes, I've actually gotten up in the middle of the night to make sure. I stood on the porch this morning and peered down towards where the barrels are and saw that water is up to the tops of both of them. We're set for a while. I'm so thankful that my mother showed us how to set up a rain barrel system. It has saved us countless dollars over the years. And since it's rainwater, the plants are not shocked by chlorine or other chemicals and what we call organic, is truly organic. I'm sure the rain will be gone by nightfall, but in the meantime, I intend to enjoy the blessings that it is bringing. I think I may curl up with a good book later...or a game of Scrabble. In the mean time, I'm just thankful that the rain barrels are doing their job.

In honor of Veterans Day, I hope you will read this beautiful poem which so eloquently points out just what our Veterans have done for us to protect our freedoms.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The Thanksgiving Challenge Post 11: Rain Rain Stay and Play, even to another day!

I'm a bit late today. This morning we had to get up early and go to Hartsville. After we got home, I headed for BiLo's where I spent a lovely hour grocery shopping . Before I began my shop, the rain held me in the truck for a bit. I didn't mind at all as curtains of rain fell around me. You see, we are back in a severe drought here and so this remnant of a fall Hurricane has been good for us. I heard someone on the news today say that they were used to the summer hurricanes which brought heat and mugginess. I wonder if there is less damage when the storm comes in November. We are due two more full days of rain and about 4-6 inches of liquid gold. The trees need this soaking more than anything. We've had so little rain that their roots tend to turn loose of the soil and fall over. We carry buckets of water to our young fruit trees weekly, but the big oak trees, maples and cedars are needing what God provides, not what little we can do.

After Hurricane Hugo ( September, 1989) which was a disaster for all of South Carolina and most of North Carolina, we tend not to say such things as "we need a good hurricane to bring us rain." At least not where anyone can hear us. For the most part, there is no such thing as a "good" hurricane. For the other part we don't want people glaring at us and wishing us ill. Earlier this afternoon as I sat in my pretty red truck and waited for the rain to slack off, I said a prayer of thanks for all of Chesterfield County and hopeful that any flooding is light and non damaging. But God, how we needed that rain. How thankful we are to receive it!
http://bunnyawards.blogspot.com/2009/11/pearl-of-giveaway.html
will take you to a pearl of a giveway from my pal, Debra...please go by and check in!

Thanksgiving Challenge ...Post 10..August in November

First of all I'd like to thank everyone for the kind words yesterday. I don't know for sure what ailed me, but today I look a bit better than death warmed over and am able to sit up and take a little broth...long as that broth is coffee flavored. Really, I feel a good bit better and just to make me feel like a summer time girl, this is what Mac presented me with. Okay, I know...I know...all your hubbies would have given you long stemmed roses or a bunch of daisies they'd picked growing wild in your neighbors yards. But you see, I don't eat "store bought" tomatoes. They taste odd. The texture is off and the flavor is that of cardboard. They look pretty on the inside, but they were picked green and gassed for shipment...yes, gassed. Now, oddly enough these were late tomatoes which we picked in late September-early October. Mac grew these tomatoes like all our others, from seed. The deep red with green shoulders is called Cherokee Purple and the red ones are Arkansas Traveler. They were new varieties to us, but they are Heritage tomatoes. That means they have been being grown for quite some time, they are not new varieties other than to us. The flavor of the Cherokee Purple is sweet with tangy farewell taste left in your mouth. The Arkansas Traveler makes you want to listen to fiddle music and do a hoe down in the middle of the kitchen floor. It has a kick to it. We had stripped the plants just before we heard there was to be a freeze and wrapped all the fruits in newspaper and placed them in garden baskets. They've been sitting waiting on Mac to have a peek ever since. This is about a bakers dozen and we still have a couple baskets left.

Tomorrow night for supper, Mac will be thankful for braised pork chops, green butterbeans, hot buttered rice and sliced tomatoes tasting fresh from the garden. No gases ever touched their tender flesh. A quick scalding and slipping the peel...maybe I feel up to having a sink sandwich...well, maybe not quite yet. So, for today I'm thankful for Mac and his green thumb. Cause, I sure would love me a tomato for supper tomorrow when I've for sure recovered!

The Thanksgiving Challenge...Day 9...

It's Sunday morning and normally by this time (9:20 am) I've already posted my "I'm thankful for". This morning I'm a bit behind. Not because of Church or sleeping in or anything like that. There will be no Church this morning, and when I finish up in here, I'm crawling back to my bed and pulling the covers over my head and snuggling down. This morning I am sick. While I am pretty sure it is not H1N1 or seasonal flu, as badly as I feel, it may as well be. So, this morning I am thankful that I have a warm bed to crawl to, a roof over my head and hot tea to sip. Those things alone are so much more than many people have. There are times that I feel guilty about all the riches in my life, but at this time of year just the mere act of sharing with others assuages any guilt that might come my way. Since I don't want to share what ever creeping crud is attacking me this morning, I will keep myself at home and try not to breathe on anyone. That will make a church full of people thankful!

Giving Thanks, Day 6

To start with, today is hard for me. Being a Military Family member (albeit retired) what hurts one hurts all. I sat in shock yesterday as the (erroneous) news reports came over the air. Now with 13 dead and scores wounded, we learn that the man who was to care for their emotional needs inflicted great bodily harm on them, instead. While the news at first reported his death, he lives. I told Mac, after we had spent an hour hearing the same information regurgitated from different newscasters, that we needed to wait till today, when the facts began to come out. How different are the facts than the supposition? Very. I learned long ago in my work that the only thing you learn from eye witness accounts is that each one has a different version. It will be days before we know all the investigators know, and even then we won't know it all. So, our prayers go out to the surviving injured and their families, and most especially for the families of those killed. God be with them. And some may find what I am about to say very difficult to take. I want God to heal the soul of the shooter. I in fact beseech God on his behalf, to heal that wounded spirit so that in his current state, he may ask the forgiveness of his Maker for the harm he has inflicted. My upbringing tells me that God forgives all. After all, man proposes, God disposes.

Now, for what I am thankful for this morning. I am thankful that my sons and daughters(in-law) are well and uninjured today. I am thankful that my Granddaughter is safe within her school walls and learning the lessons she will need to become a success in her future. I am thankful for the man I married 41 years ago, who spent much of his life (30 years) in the Navy spending many years at sea away from those who loved him most to defend the country he loved the most.Father , I am thankful.
your child

Amen

Giving Thanks...Day Five...The Floss from the Gold

My parents always tried to instill in us the ability to tell the difference between the real things in life and the temporary fixes. It's a lesson I hope that I've learned well. Here on day five of our Thanksgiving Challenge, I find it is not hard at all to come up with the things I'm most thankful for. This morning we're already up and about and have been since 6 am. These days I don't exactly bound from bed, but with a little push from Mac, I'm up and about. This morning there isn't much time to be lollygagging about, because Mac has an appointment with our Doc. We have our very own personal Doctor OZ.

A few years back we changed doctors due to the fact that our other doctor nearly killed me. Yes, you read right. Okay, so maybe nearly killed me is a bit strong, but no thanks to her I did not end up a quadriplegic. It was so close a call, I get the shivers. After the surgery that put me (more or less) back on my feet, I went Doctor hunting. We both knew, Mac and I, that we would never darken her door again. So I went through the TriCare manual looking for Doctors in the system and tried to learn something about them. I came across our current Doc and his credentials looked good. I made the appointments for follow up from the surgery and one for Mac to get us both established as new patients.

From day one, I was impressed. Unlike the usual "cattle call" rush thru labs, quick visit with the Doc pay your co-pay byby visit, he sat with me and took time to ask questions about my personal health, what I was being treated for, what surgeries I had recently had, and why. Why was the big question he wanted answers to. He listened to the newly repaired heart and told me it was beating strong and steady, he examined the newly restored neck complete with titanium and cadaver bone vertebrae and pronounced it a miracle, looked at my blood sugar log and told me that I had to do better. You can't have it all.

So this was in September of 2003. We don't dread going to see him, for we know that if he finds anything new to worry about, he'll turn heaven and earth to find the answers that will relieve our minds. He's just that sort of a doctor. Very much like my father, he doesn't much care for unanswered medical questions. And no question is to embarrassing for him. I've seen him go get one of his medical books and sit with me looking for the answer if he feels I doubt him in any way. I've learned to put my trust in him, and he's earned every ounce of it. I'm a hard sell. So, today I'm so thankful for Dr. Kenneth Pickens Moyd...now if that's not a Southern name, I'll buy you lunch.

A Month of Giving Thanks...Lee and The Guinea chickens

I think that in all our lives, everything we are thankful for harks back to childhood. Yesterday I was thankful for collards, but after working all afternoon cleaning cooking and freezing turnip greens with root, I'd be hard pressed to be thankful for them! There is nothing quite so hard to clean as the turnip. Of course that is just my opinion. But still, when we thaw out that bag of turnips later on in the winter, I assure you that we will be most thankful for them, the misery of elbow deep water (and I use warmish water) a thing of (not so long) distant memory.

Our neighbors, Tara and Sam (I won't even attempt to spell their last name, suffice it to say Sam is from Greece) have a nice size little farm that sits adjacent to us. We get to share the beauty of their horses, the sweetness of the cattle, the raucousness of their geese and the neighborliness of their guinea chickens. You see, guineas are wild free spirits who spend their lives hiding their nests and foraging for food in all its forms. We buy dried corn to put out at the woodline for the deer. There's nothing more relaxing than sitting out on the back porch with a cat in your lap, watching the deer come up to eat. Our land is posted against hunters, so is Sam and Tara's. When the chickens first appeared in our yard, Mac went to the barn to get some corn. That started a trend. We've now graduated to chicken feed.

It was one day a couple of weeks ago when the Guineas first arrived. I felt such an overwhelming sense of peace at these lovely birds, and remembered Little Granny (Merriman) her apron filled with chicken feed, softly calling "chick chick chick" and throwing the feed out in a wide arc so that all would get something to eat. You learn quickly about a pecking order if you don't spread it out enough. Unlike human mothers, the young chicks will be pecked back to eggdom if they get in the way of the senior chickens beaks. Hence, pecking order. I don't know why it sends such a shiver of calm over me to see those chickens running toward us expectantly. Perhaps it fulfills the "mother earth" part of my nature. I did tell you I was a card carrying, tree protecting bunny hugger. You suspected though, right?

So, this morning when I was out feeding the cats, I expected to see the Guineas racing toward the porch in anticipation of a morning meal. They didn't come. I went back inside and Mac says, "why the face?" I explained that the chickens hadn't come for breakfast. I mean really, after three weeks of being our bestest friends forever and a no show now? I kept going back out and found myself clucking "chick chick chick" out behind the barns. So here I was, typing away about what I was feeling thankful for, about how those darned chickens had made each morning glad, and this morning , NO CHICKENS. Listen, I picked up the phone and actually called and left Tara a message...where are the chickens? I know, pitiable.

Lee popped up on I/M and asked about me and how our evening went , I told her about the hard work of cleaning and cooking the turnips Bill had blessed me with and suddenly I hear Mac yelling out "your chickens are here!" I can't believe how happy I felt. I hurriedly told Lee I had to run for a sec, the chickens were here. Now, here is how close our friendship has become. She understood completely. So, here on day 4 of giving thanks it's a dead heat. I'm thankful for my neighbors chickens who give me a sense of peace every morning. But mostly, I'm thankful for Lee. I have Evil Sister, Good Sister, and now I have Blogging Sister. Wow. I am really and truly blessed.

Giving Thanks: Day 3...A head of collards and a hunk of cornbread

Before we know it, November will be far into its first week and we'll have to start thinking about Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving maybe more than Christmas. I said maybe. But something happened yesterday that could clarify it for me some more. And since this is day three of Giving Thanks Challenge, I know exactly what I'm thankful for. Here goes.

One day last week we stopped by my cousin Bill's house to take him a little gift. I have always loved Bill, since I was a little girl. But more on Bill in a later post. Anyway, we started talking about his turnip patch and I told him that I still cooked my turnips the way Aunt Delah (his mother) had instructed me that they were to be cooked. He asked about our collards and Mac told him how great they were doing. "I love collards," Bill allowed, "but with just me here it's too much trouble to prepare them and cook them. " I made him a deal then and there. I'd trade him some cooked to a turn collard greens, if he would let me get about 3 dozen turnips, complete with greens. He agreed so fast it made my head swim.

Yesterday, after we got home from Mac's appointment with his Doc for his quarterly blood work (that darned cholesterol medication!) I found a message from Bill. I was just about to return his call when the phone rang. I told him he must be psychic, I was just about to call and he told me to be at his house at about 10:30 (this) morning. He said J.W. (his nephew, another cousin of mine) was coming to help him harvest the turnips and he was ready for collards! Promising to see him at the appointed time and place, I told Mac we had to go pull a collard head.

We walked out to the garden a bit later and Mac asked which one I wanted. I pointed to a beautiful huge head loaded with lush green leaves and said I'd take that one. It was such a perfect specimen that I caught my breath. "You know, " I mused, " if this were at the State Fair, it'd be a prize winner. A blue ribbon prize winner." Mac had just cut the heavy root off, and held it up for a better look. "I do believe you're right, " he grinned.

I cut the leaves off, which left just the stalk to go into the compost. There was not one leaf that was damaged, no poison had ever touched them, no bugs had munched, not one single blemish was on that perfect head of collards. I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear at Mac's success. Taking the bundle of leaves inside, I lay them on the counter and filled the sink with the the first of several rinsing water baths. After I had washed them, I rolled them, one by one, into the tight bundle I had often seen Mammy (my Grandmother) do, took my kitchen shears and cut them into small pieces. And was instantly transported back in time to her kitchen. I could hear her voice talking about the Thanksgiving meal she was preparing and how good she felt that we had made the trip up from Tampa to be with them all. She was busy cutting the collards into the stock pot and bringing them to the boil. She put in piece of fatback and covered the pot tightly. She was describing to me the dinner that would soon be shared with her family. The dining room would be filled with Aunts and Uncles, grown cousins and of course Grandparents. The big kitchen table would be set for the children where from 9 to 15 of us would sit for our meal. The main topic of conversation would be how to get rid of the collards on our plate. No one, of course, was thinking about actually eating them. The smell of cooking collards is something that most children would find offensive. All those vitamins and roughage fouling the air, covering the smell of roasting turkey and the best dressing anyone ever put in their mouths...

Mammy had a rule when it came to food put on your plate. You cleaned that plate, on account of all the starving children in China. (My friend Vonnie said her Granny once knocked her half way into the following week when she replied "I wish they had this plate, I don't like collards"). Now, I don't know how our cleaning our plates had a thing to do with the children in China, starving or otherwise, but we respected (read feared) Mammy enough to do what she said. I'm not sure when my childhood self turned against me, but that Thanksgiving something profound happened. Preparing myself to heave, taking the first bite (after a liberal dosing of Pepper sauce) I found the taste, well...I found the taste pleasing. I took a second bite and actually smiled. The rest of the table looked at me like I was an alien in their midst. I was reaching for a hunk of cornbread...

When I came back to myself, found me standing at the kitchen sink still cutting collards, putting them into the big stock pot and grinning like a mule eating briers. I had heard Mammy's voice so clearly, even though she has been gone for 30 years, that I didn't doubt she had been standing right next to me. I felt her love wrap around me like a warm sweater...or a big old collard leaf. All that was missing was the smell of cornbread wafting from the oven. I guess that's why it's called "comfort food".

A Month of Giving Thanks...Day 2

So here we are on November 2nd, and it's Day 2 of A Month of Giving Thanks Challenge. Today I want to give thanks for you, my blogging friends. You see, back in April I was laid low. I wasn't aware of being on the Critical List until I had been moved up to Fair condition. My son Wallace updated my blog and told everyone that I was in Hospital and just how serious a situation it was turning out to be. One day just after Easter, he and Charity came into my hospital room with a sheaf of papers. They were smiling to beat the band and fanned the papers out on my lap. I looked down and saw all these names that I recognized and comments and well wishes from over 100 people in my Cyberspace Neighborhood. Mac had brought me the print outs of numerous E-mails and E-Cards...and there were Get Well cards thru Snail Mail...I had a daily phone call from Lee in Texas. I was overwhelmed. Now, here were about a hundred+ messages and I have to say that after I got through laughing, I cried. So, here for day two, I want to tell you just how much it meant to me.

I always knew that friends were a tonic for when you hit low points in your life. But before I came into this wonderful world of blogging, my friends were always those to whom I could put a face and a voice to. Now I may not always be able to put a voice to your faces, but I've seen your faces in your blogs so much that I would know you if I saw you. How does one say "Thank You" for all the wonderful prayers that went out? Well, I just want to say it again...thank you my friends. You're a rock.

A New Month of Thanksgivings

Leah, our friend at South Breeze Farm, started us down a road of offering up Thanks for the things that enriched our lives, no matter how insignificant it may seem to others. It's the little things in life that we often overlook that we should be the most grateful for. Today is day one. If you would like to join in, please click on the Giving Thanks Banner to your right, it will take you to the spot where you can hook up with Leah and the rest of us through Mr. Linksey...very easy to do. I hope we'll break a record this year.

For Day 1, I want to give thanks for my daughters-in-law, Charity and Anna. We very often neglect to tell the people around us whom we love and admire, that we DO. So I would like to take this opportunity to tell them how dear they are to me, in their own right. They make my sons lives full and enrich our lives, as well. I give thanks they both have now found jobs that they not only like, but love. That's such an important distinction, when you are working full time, trying to keep your family on an even keel. No misery attached to the jobsite means a lighter spirit. So, I'm thankful for my girls. Not just because they are married to my boys, but because they love us in return, and never fail to show it.

Now, I'm headed over to Leah's South Breeze Farm so I can check out your blessings. Blogging our Blessings...I love this. See you tomorrow for Day 2.