We came back to the country for Thanksgiving Day.
As the landscape outside the car window blurred more rural, less urban, I felt the inner child crying out for the leafy green safety blanket. True, in the city I can fulfill nearly every need within a five mile radius; every need except that unnamed longing to breathe woodsmoke and stand in the shadow of snowy mountains.
Wednesday night the clouds gave us a few inches of snow, which I promptly ran outside and photographed. It was wet and sticky and dissolved almost entirely by noon.
The table was set with all sorts of Thanksgiving dinner standards–turkey, potatoes, green beans, creamed onions. We braved hunting season for a few sprigs of evergreen to decorate the table.
It was a good day, it was.
