driving on thanksgiving

I love the soothing rhythm of driving on roads without many cars. I especially love driving early in the morning when everyone is still asleep and driving on holidays when everyone else is already at their destination. As I drove to my parent's house this morning I had a chance to slow down and enjoy the leaf-less New England landscape punctuated by houses with smoke curling through the crisp air and full driveways. Cars pulled up to front doors and unloaded families dressed in wool coats carrying dishes of what I suspected were family recipes of varying degrees of healthiness. One yard was spotted with foraging white hens and another hosted a display of Christmas greenery for sale. Some of the treasures of living in semi-rural New England.

lauren - taken by aaron with his iphone

 


Thanksgiving always feels like pre-Christmas - a practice run for the big shindig, threatened to be overshadowed completely. As I was driving through the Thanksgiving Day landscape I was impressed by the humble-by-comparison traditions of today's holiday. Thanksgiving doesn't have all the giltz and pop of Christmas - the box office blockbusters, commercial insanity, bright lights, and materialistic center of Christmas. No, family and friends don't come home for Thanksgiving as often. Yes, I do love the music (started November 1st!), presents, cartoon specials, decorations, magazines, and the smell of fresh pine, baking cookies, and cinnamon. And I love eggnog (on my third container already). But in this strangle transitional time of year - in between the green of summer and the hopefully sparkling white winter - there is a wash of browns, oranges, and yellows and a feast of thanksgiving. It's kind of nice.