Thanksgiving #1

  November 24th, 2011,  Thanksgiving Day

Tucked back in on a little farm in rural Idaho.

Family.  Food.  Fun.  Memories. 

The perfect gravy.

Lois....the corn tasted soooo good!

Mashing Taters.

Homemade rolls.

Everybody's Favorite.

Yum!

Grandpa, can I sit with you?

Lots of laughs and fun chatting.

Milk anyone?

So Pretty!

Nate and Genny

Father and daughter.

The Littlest Princess.

Gun Show.

I want to fly!

 Uncle Morris.

Walkin' with the Girls.

Soon...very soon!**

 

1+1=3

Game Time!

The Girls won!

Serious Strategy!

The Deck.

Good coffee...a must!

Jumpin' eight spaces!

Marbles...a family tradition...

   Our day was wonderful.  We all over-indulged...and made memories.  We missed those unable to come, but enjoyed ourselves anyway.    Happy Thanksgiving!

** Photograph idea is not an original, but that of a friend.

Pie

 

Sweet Potatoes.

Add a couple eggs, some sugar and a few spices.

Nutmeg.

Rollin' Out the Pastry.

Gettin' Closer

Ready to Pop in the Oven.

Sweet Potato Pie!

Next on the List.

Cherry pie's a favorite!

Ahhhh....the color of cherries.

Cherry Pie!

Pie crust cookies with the left over dough!!!  Yum!

The Barn

   Tonight after dark I walked out to the barn by myself.  A bite to the air during my walk, our faithful dog Buddy walked as close as possible.  The stars were out...a clear cold night, but they were so beautiful!  I got to the barn and opened the door.  It smelled of hay and animal feed.  The barn cats cuddled in the hay, trying to stay warm.  A light from the chicken coop shown dimly into one stall leaving a glow radiating warmth.  Everything sat still, and all was tucked in: ready for a chilly night.   Lead ropes latched into bailing twine hung from the hay stack: evidence of my hay climbing kids.  Hoses hang from rafters draining, and the wind whistles a bit outside.
  I initially came to throw my chickens some food but sat instead for a little time to think.  The barn was quiet except for occasional critter noises.  Buddy lay down at my feet (probably wondering what I was doing). 
  I wish I could bottle feelings to taste later.  The "in the barn during winter" bottle would be pretty cool.  Seeing your breath while choring, crisp air, the sense of accomplishment and working with your hands are things everyone should experience.   And in all honesty the "warming up by the wood stove" when chores are complete totally "makes" it.  God's natural anti-depressant.
  But with the Thanksgiving season here, I want to say I am thankful for barns.  Barns slow life down, they give you a reason to be outside.  Barns give purpose, provide a place of meeting, a place for memories: good smells, and hard work.  In the winter they protect and smell so good.  The spring they shelter from the rain.  The summer they're shade and a place for kids to play.  In the fall they store. 
  So my evening trip to the barn was nice.  I admit, I stayed out a little longer than intended.  I was thrust back into reality when I remembered supper boiling on the stove.  I slowly walked back to the house, put supper on and fed some hungry kids. 

The Old Double Wide

   

Thanksgiving is fast approaching, seven more days.  "Thanks"giving.  I've watched on facebook as people give thanks for various things...a great idea.  There are so many things I am thankful for: my list is big.   And...it's funny what a person can become thankful for.  Maybe not initially, but over time.

    I was a little girl when I moved to the state of Idaho.  Idaho is my home and always will be.  I wasn't born here, my parents moved while I was in grade school. We came from Oregon.

  When my parents came to Idaho, we moved into a 1964 double-wide trailer.  My dad worked at a lumber mill and our home was on the plant (employee housing).  Our home was next to the power plant (a little noisy)...but it since enabled me to tune out a lot (maybe that's gift?). 

  Our cozy little trailer came complete with trailer house paneling, and pea-green 1" shag carpet.  The previous owner had also been a "fly-tier" and had gifted my bedroom with the occasional fish hook in the carpet (great on bare feet).  Not really.  We had a fireplace at one end of the trailer and an original 1964 propane furnace (I am also thankful for carbon monoxide detectors). lol   To the outside world (or that of Adams Co, ID) we fit in.  We weren't poor, but neither were we rich.  We were happy.

  I remember hosting sleep overs with my friends in our little trailer.  I remember holidays in our trailer, birthdays, summers, hunting seasons, the first time a boy came to meet my parents (yes it was Tim) and the day I left.  That 1964 double wide was my home, and I loved it.  

  We had a trailer just like everyone else...   Though a few families in town had stick built homes (more employee housing).  Very few people in my childhood had nice homes (by today's standards).  We were all mill or logger's kids.  Looking back on my childhood, I see poverty in the area I grew up.  Of course I didn't see it then.  It was just life and I loved my childhood there.  I have many memories I treasure.

  Our little trailer wasn't new.  The carpet was...well, old.  The walls had seen a few years.  I guess our trailer made me appreciate and to be okay with things, that happiness wasn't found in the "latest and greatest".  Maybe that's where my love for simplicity comes from.  I am thankful too for the noisy mill that lulled us to sleep every night.  I have so many things to praise God for: my husband, my children, my faith.  But I am also so thankful for parents who decided to raise their daughter in a double wide trailer.

I Belong to You

  You have a plan...for me.  I am important because I am your child.  You will give me all I need. I will seek and find you.  You make yourself known...to those that seek.
  I am beautiful because I reflect you.  How much more if I give myself entirely as your vessel.   Will I not radiate you?  Make me a reflection of you.  I want to be that vessel...your vessel.
   Show me, give me the eyes to see that which I've not laid down.  I want to lay it all down.
  You are my strength.  You are my guide.  You are my direction.  You give me eyes to see.  You are all I need.  You are all I will ever need.
  This life is not the end.  I have hope....hope transcending today into forever.  This hope awakens with me each morning...its there all the time.  All I need do is grasp it.  I can't create it...I can't earn it....I am nothing outside the Creator of hope.  But as a child of the Creator, hope is freely given to me: a gift to be grasped.
  I belong to you.  I am yours.