Here in eastern Ontario, Thanksgiving Day opened onto a cool, bright morning. The farmer across the road was bringing in the soy crop and we were treated to the dust of a good harvest wafting over the hedge, the sun dancing gleefully through the haze. There is no Hallmark card for the moment.
Thanksgiving is my favourite celebration. No festooning of trees, no retail mayhem, no incessant saccharine music in every store. There are no pressures of gifting except the most essential gift of time and companionship – easily shared. The holiday is an embracing of a successful harvest, community and gratitude. How could this not appeal this year in particular, and indeed every year?
The shadows of this pandemic and political time were swept aside by the chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals and blue jays on the feeders, by the perfection of a morning, by the choice we made to focus this day on the greater garden around us.
The ways of sharing felt different this year – electronic pulses more than elbows nudging over a good joke. Early morning there was a crop of well-wishers on social media – the newer, electronic garden where words replace touch and proximity. Only a brief sadness settled in when the distance between sender and sendee was thought about, even as we smiled at the 10 – 100 joyful words on laptop and phone screens. To be read and re-read again.
Next was a road trip to a local tree farm. There pancakes were expertly flipped to order on the outside porch and maple syrup from this year’s arboreal haul was poured liberally – much to the delight of the small swarm of wasps entranced by the sweet temptation. But no garden is without bugs, birds and blooms – they are all intimately interconnected. Children played on hay bales, flew through the air suspended on a line from one pillar to another to the delight of a puppy who stared and stared, parents stood by masked and sharing plans for the dinners they would have later. We watched it all and warmed to the companionship of others – a garden of fellows on this holiday in isolated times.
We left with treasure stuffed deep into a paper bag – homemade jams and a huge bottle of local maple syrup, ‘cause knowing the maker just means a sweeter experience all around. Three would be for friends – strawberry jam to a senior neighbour on the street who has treated me to tea and stories of a life well lived; Toe Jam to a friend who shares humour, politics and furry companions; and Middle Age Spread (lemon and orange) that waits on a sideboard for another who shares many adventures with us. Sweet delights to cultivate the garden of friendship.
The dinner table – set for we two – was festooned with maple leaves on their woody stems placed just so in a crystal vase from my mum, now gone, while the meal was an amalgam of delights from local entrepreneurs. It was a decision to fill the table with all that was tasty from those local business owners who have had to navigate this unique year in new and different ways. Roasted veg, garlic mashed potatoes, lentil loaf, hand pies baked resplendent with mushroom filling and turkey with stuffing. All this nudging up against red and green lettuce from our garden that keeps on giving even in the cooling air, whose leaves mark the plenty that was grown. And to end it all, a perfectly seasoned pumpkin pie from our local baker, complete with a pastry pumpkin placed precisely in the very centre allowing thick whipped cream to encircle it in a caloric hug. This meal was not the first where we celebrated the gifts of others, nor would it be the last. We raised a toast and gave thanks for living in a vibrant, creative community which will make it through whatever times are ahead.
Throughout it all, each hour of this day, we thought of times shared with friends and family, so glad for those moments stored deep inside to be looked at and relived, whenever needed. Our personal garden of memory and an appetite for more!
And as it must, so the day ended and the sun began to sink behind the cedar hedge in the west.
The silver and red maples in front of our dining room seemed to stretch out each leaf before they tumbled to the ground in a glowing curtain. A fitting moment, nature saying time is right to face a change in season and to be grateful for this day – this thanks-be-given day.
3 thoughts on “Thanks-be-given”
how did you make out with the seeds you planted in your meadows? I have been trying to do that at our local hospice, not much success
Good on you for supporting the hospice – horticultural therapy in action! I didn’t plant seeds in the meadow what I did do was move some local plants like asters and Solomon’s Seal along with Sweet Woodroff and let time play gardener – slow but sure. Here the Rudebeckia, Mondara and daisies are good candidates too. Really like the movement of grasses as well and split a number of our Feather Reed grasses (Karl Foresters) that are performing very well.
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I may have to go that route too, lots of hardy perennials to divide and relocate