Last Thursday was Thanksgiving. This morning I said goodbye to the last member of my holiday visiting family and drove home from the train station in the rain, feeling suitably glum and wintery.
Some houses still have pumpkins on their stoops, but this was obviously the weekend for getting out holiday decorations – lots of glowing icicles hanging from eaves, and May-pole shaped ‘trees’ made of Christmas lights strands. Some blow-up snowman snow globes of which I will not speak another word.
My decorations are on my radar but not up yet. And the idea of getting a tree was collectively nixed the minute the word “kitten” was mentioned. I need some time to come up with a solution to that energetic, furry problem.
On Thanksgiving day we went up to Sam’s Point and walked in the fog,
and were given the gift of blue sky when we reached the lake at the top of the ridge.
There was fog dew on everything.
We came home and ate turkey and then leftovers, leftovers, leftovers for days.
On Saturday we visited the fairytale Mohonk Mountain House for lunch (and a menu change).
We got lost, briefly, in the garden maze but managed to find our way home.
It was a real vacation. We watched movies, played with cats large and small, and talked and laughed a ton. So good. It felt both long and short – how the best days always feel. I am grateful.