Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote in Oldtown Folks that the king and high priest of all festivals was the autumn Thanksgiving. When the apples were all gathered and the cider was all made, and the yellow pumpkins were rolled in from many a hill in billows of gold, and the corn was husked, and the labours of the season were done, and the warm, late days of Indian summer came in, dreamy and calm and still, with just frost enough to crisp the ground of a morning, but with warm trances of benignant, sunny hours at noon, there came over the community a sort of genial repose of spirit—a sense of something accomplished, and of a new golden mark made in advance on the calendar of life—and the deacon began to say to the minister, of a Sunday, I suppose it's about time for the Thanksgiving proclamation.....
Thanksgiving is unpretentious simplicity. A single day dedicated to the celebration of life, the change of the season, and the appreciation of family, friendship, God, and the many blessings that have crossed our myriad paths
As we break bread and pour wine in celebration, we should remember that it is an accident of birth that finds us in a land of material well being and relative freedom. Be grateful that your family won't hear air raid sirens tonight. Give thanks that home isn't a squalid refugee camp in Pakistan or a mud-walled, tin roofed shack on a back alley in Haiti. Appreciate your friends and family this day, many in the Phillipines won't have that opportunity again.
TWC is grateful to my clients, who make it possible for me to earn living doing something I enjoy and are the very reason why I have eaten breakfast with my kids almost every day of their lives.
I am thankful for friends and family; for your friendship, love, and kindness. And to you, Gentle Reader, who takes time out of your busy day to drop by every so often. If you didn't read the musings of a wine dog, there wouldn't be much point in writing it. Thank you.
May all y'alls day be blessed.