Giving Thanks

Given that yesterday was the traditional Thanksgiving, these boys had plenty of reason to be grateful that they weren't on someone's table, stuffed instead of stuffing themselves. 

Long before the move up here, I subscribed to a magazine called "Country;" then later an ancillary magazine called "Country Woman."  Both had lovely photographs and articles having to do with rural living.  I was working in a high-stress job and found it restful to dream of what life could be like elsewhere.  In "Country Woman" there was a column I particularly enjoyed called "The View From My Kitchen Window."  I was thinking of this yesterday as I was standing at the sink, washing milk buckets and hummingbird feeders.  Down in the valley, the houses were so close together, and my neighbor and I could wave across the fifteen feet or so between our kitchens as we did dishes.  Here, my kitchen window looks out to the west, perfectly framing the huge oak in the front yard.  The men putting up the feed barn perhaps thought I was strange when I asked them to stand where they planned to put the first stakes while I ran back into the house to look out the window, coming out to tell them to move six inches back.  I didn't want anything to block my spectacular view.  Shortly after moving in, I planted bare root lilac "sticks" in front of the kitchen windows.  It took years before these leafless twigs took hold and grew, and longer still before they bloomed.  These plants are taller than I now and in the spring the heavy blossoms fill the kitchen with lilac perfume.  At this time of year, the leaves have turned yellow and are falling, but the bare branches are full of tiny sparrows and I can hear their chatter through the closed windows.  I love the view from my kitchen window.