Steaming turkey. Slices and slices of ham. Mounds of mashed potatoes. Piles of sweet potatoes. Mom's marvelous dill green beans. Broccoli-cheese casserole. Cranberry sauce. Jello salad. Croissants. Homemade bread. Ham gravy. Turkey gravy. Stuffing. Stuffing. Stuffing.
And that doesn't even include the dessert, and who knows what else I'm leaving out. It's amazing anybody could move after a feast like that.
Oh, this was a 'small' Thanksgiving at the Finger farm - only 18 people - but it was still a blast. The nieces and nephews all got along. A handful of us went for a walk in the afternoon to help burn off some of those calories we accumulated. That's become a holiday tradition, right up there with the volleyball matches at Pawnee Heights High School (if we think to get the key and there are enough visitors to put together a match) and the rousing games of Nerts (some folks call it Double Solitaire).
I rarely say much on the walks; it's usually a great time to hear what's on the minds of others in the group. Today they talked about the large buck that darted across the front yard this morning --- and sure enough, there he was ahead of us as we walked on the north side of the Sawmill. He stared at us for a bit, then bounded south and west...across the dry creek bed, leaping into the alfalfa field south of the creek and then onto Froetschner land.
He'd left plenty of tracks earlier in the day, and we spotted some coyote tracks as well. Deer have become so plentiful a sighting has become routine.
I've learned to watch my step on these holiday strolls. You could really mess up an ankle or a knee stepping into a hole dug by a badger...and it was clear ground squirrels or field mice had been busy on the south end of the field where we were walking. When Dad had numerous horses on the land, you had to keep an eye out for manure piles or you'd be grumbling over your misstep much longer than the walk ever lasted.
The brisk north wind slapped our faces on the return leg, and I left my sisters and sister-in-law behind as I stepped up my pace. But it still felt good to get a look at our land and see how it's doing as the winter hibernation sets in.
It's like touching your roots again - and something about that nurtures the soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment