Our eight pound, free range, fresh turkey is cooling its jets in the garage. Normally, I wouldn't do this at Thanksgiving time, but last night's low was twenty, and tonight's low will be thirty, and tomorrow, it won't matter. We're having the coldest November in twenty-five years. Actually, this spring was the coldest and longest in twenty-five years too. My mother's convinced we're entering another mini ice age, which could very well be the case, but that's fodder for another post.
We were away when the first frost of the year hit, so I came home from sunny warm Phoenix to a desolated garden. I'm not even sure the kale survived! I'll probably get out there Friday to see what's salvageable and what's heading for the compost pile.
In the meantime it's cook, cook, cook, and then eat, eat, eat. I'm thankful that even though I've no job and no serious prospects, I still have plenty and relatively few worries. I'm also thankful for the friends I've made through this blog. And I'm thankful for Steve, for without him, none of the rest of it would matter.