The last fortnight was beautiful . . and busy. I spent all day Wednesday in the kitchen cooking .  I was as happy as a lark.  The cheesecake  and the pumpkin  pie “set” as they ought to.  The biscuits for the dressing, were fluffy and golden.    Those dishes, and a blueberry cobbler, had all been requested by different family members-and everyone wanted collards.  By mid-afternoon, all was packed up to be taken to Mamas’. where we would all gather.  I cleaned up the scene of all of this activity and headed to Mamas’.  Some things cannot be made ahead of time, so the next morning would come mighty early. 

By mid-morning on Thanksgiving day, both turkeys and the ham were done.  There was still potatoes cooking to be creamed, stuffing to mix up   – and the gravy, yet just around noon, I was sitting on the porch. 

The weather was bright and brisk.  Chesnut and Mohagony leaves were scattered about Mamas’ yard just beyond the porch.  The air smelled of autumn scents and it was so still and  silent,  I felt it was a holy time. Across the road, were the fields, I had played and worked in, in my youth,  Behind them were the woods, with the “forbidden”   pond. Sounds and pictures tumbled in.  The  sounds were muffled, distanced by years  and some of the pictures bore watermarks- but, I was filled to the brim with gratitude for those who loved me before, those who loved me now, and the ones yet to come. 

Suddenly, the families arrived   and the children spilled out of the cars and ran to the porch, shouting “Honeybee!” . 

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, my children and grandchildren stopped by the rabbitpatch, before they went home.  It was a wonderful  time.  We had just enough time for a light meal . . .and for Lyla to find her Christmas present.   Now, Brynn and Ryan pleaded for theirs!    I talked to their parents.  Really, there was nothing to do, but to give Brynn her stop watch, and hand the telescope to Ryan.  After the shock, I laughed about it.

 Just a few days after Thanksgiving, another child was born into the family . . .Niece Hayley gave birth to her firstborn, a daughter, Riley Kate.  That day, Mama, sister Delores  and I  were keeping our phones within  “arms’ reach” so we wouldn’t miss an update.  What a thrilling and joyous day, it was!   What peace flooded our hearts, when the ordeal was over and we felt “all was well”. 

After the birth of my grand-niece,  I could  concentrate on holiday decorations.  Straight away, I was collecting cedar for arrangements and wreaths.  Between the scented pine cones and the evergreens, the house smells like Christmas.   A tree does not yet abide in the living room to shine through the window and I have lots of baking to do.   After Lylas’ plundering, there will be less presents to wrap!  

It is pitch dark, as I conclude this entry in my diary.  The little neighborhood  on Bonnet Street is shrouded in a silvery mist.   Today, I need to write a letter and make butter.  I have been making  nut butters, and I made garlic butter last week. The nut butters are quite economical to make , while cream butter saves you a dollar . . .but the buttermilk. derived from the process, is an added bonus. 

I may visit the beekeeper today  or I may attempt making fairy  cakes.  Mornings are full of possibilties, after all.

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