Thanksgiving

An unedited sequential photo documentary by Kiahra.



Sparkling apple cider.



Delightful cranberry relish.



Heavenly cinnamon rolls (better than Cinnabon according to Kade) complements of our guests!



Exploring with cousins. Hello, puppy!



A busy Thanksgiving table filled with family...



...lots of laughter...




...curiosity...



...yummy jelly...



and eventually...empty plates.



At the end of the day, our backyard guest came to dine on his own Thanksgiving dinner.

Hazardous Weather Outlook

As I read the report with fascination, I was informed of a frost advisory and a freeze watch. Our overnight low may drop as low as 35 degrees. Currently, it is a cool 52 degrees and the wind is blowing.

A Montana hazardous weather outlook is also posted. Snow, blowing snow, and subzero temperatures are predicted. Currently it is -5 and snowing (according to the National Weather Service).

I have slowly understood that weather advisories are tailored for the area. A frost advisory seems ludicrous to me...particularly on November 23. However, it evidently is not typical and if I look around, everything is still green here.

Nevermind the current 60 degree temperature spread between California and Montana. Nevermind that I cannot fully wrap my brain around the weather warnings...after all this is what makes it feel like fall to me. Nevermind that I still don't even wear a coat here.

A Haircut

Nikela requested a haircut. I made a call. The thick accent and no need to make an appointment scared me after Ron's experience. I made another call. An appointment with Amanda.

As Amanda clipped Nikela's locks, she chatted. Suddenly, she was excited to hear that we once lived in Montana. As stories unfolded, we discovered Amanda grew up in northeastern Montana.

Together everyone talked and chatted about all things familiar to us and memories of home--including the speeding ticket she received in Belle Fourche, SD.

Then, the anticipation for trips home for the holidays was obvious. She is younger. She has been in California four years. We are all a bit homesick.

Snow. Cold mornings. All the things that herald the season. AND family.

Yesterday in San Mateo we found a friend whose heart is close to the land and country we miss so.

Indeed it is a small world, and we find each other at the best moments.

PS Nikela left with her eyebrows intact.

Flip Flops

73 degrees. The sun is beating down. It is warm. So, I brought out my summer stuff again. Nevermind about the boots yesterday. Flip flops are in for this week.

BUT...how do you find your holiday spirit without crisp cool mornings? Swirling snowflakes?

I wanted to scream when I saw the Christmas display yesterday. It is summer. It is not Christmas, much less Thanksgiving. Then I paused. It is the middle of November, really! One week until Thanksgiving. Five weeks until Christmas??

Then I remembered my sister sent me a message about Christmas that I didn't have time to answer because I have plenty of time.

Well, maybe not. I am totally and completely seasonally confused!

The Boots

Kiahra's knit UGG boots...except hers are a beautiful deep maroon.

She purchased them a couple months ago. I discovered them a month ago. The boots are the ones I wore to Indiana that my sister recognized curbside complete with insider information (that they were Kiahra's) thanks to her blog.

I love them. They complement a few of my outfits perfectly.

Though I always try to ask permission first. Friday night Nikela wore them with permission.

The travelling boots.

Three girls with the same size of feet.

Perhaps Ron may mistakenly believe this would be convenient and cheap...after all we can share. However, I suspect this merely gives us more shoe options. For the record, I have not been a fan of UGGs...at all. I teased Kiahra that they are UGG(ly). However after slipping them on for a quick errand and discovering their stylish comfort, now I must humbly wear the boots.

Kiahra is our shoe queen, so Nikela and I can try out the different styles complements of her. THEN we can go get our own shoes.

PS. She claims I owe her boot rental...

Yesterday

Yesterday I paused several times as thoughts of my grandmother flooded my memories. I knew she passed away last November, but I hadn't remembered the day. Dates are details I often forget. I remember the stories. I remember our last conversation the day before...or was it the morning...anyway, she told me she was tired. I told her I was too, but it didn't seem like the kids ever gave me time to rest, and she quipped, "Well, I took a nap for you too!" Then she laughed. The laugh from my childhood that I will always hold dear. The familiar laugh that I still echoes in my heart and comforts me.

This morning I discovered the date...November 10, 2009. Funny my heart already knew what my mind had forgotten.

One year ago, we were each making plans so we could hold each other close. In the following days, our family arrived...her children and every grandchild from across the country gathered to celebrate her life. Oh, we cried too as the warm memories tugged on our heartstrings, but the smiles emerged through the tears. I am grateful for all the years we were blessed to share with her, and that she so faithfully drew her family close...even in death, the bonds of family were rekindled through her spirit.

Throughout the past year those bonds that time and distance had weakened have become stronger.

Today I am reminded of the importance to hold family close.

Been thinkin'...

about my writing. Been wonderin' if I should write more. Been tryin' to find the courage.

I receive a nudge now and then from different folks, and it causes me to pause and ponder my dreams.

A long time ago, I shared the following excerpt from my writing journal with a dear friend. She was quiet for a bit before she said to me, "Lori, you need to tell stories." She is gone now, but her words have come back to me...gently nudging me.

His blue eyes were similar to the vast Montana sky—clear and endless. The Big Sky Country, as it is aptly nicknamed, is so blue and void of any texture that it renders the artist’s palette useless, as only one shade of clear blue will duplicate that pureness. Despite the apparent clarity, the complexities of life and land had taken their toll on those eyes, though he shared the same blue with his son whose vision was yet to be clouded by reality and the harsh elements of the ranch and life. His eyes held the hope only a young man can have with dreams as vast as the Montana sky, but after all what did dreams hurt? Sometimes it is tempting to share those realities, but is it worth dampening the enthusiasm of youth? No. Better to nurture the dreams and gently hold a hand out hoping that the outcroppings are less cumbersome for the younger generation.

A slow smile crossed his face as the young man beside him aptly jumped out to open the gate and drag it across the road before turning to face his father with a knowing nod.

The younger blue eyes watched the battered truck slowly ease through the fence and roll to a stop patiently as he secured the gate with the rusted wires reinforced with each generation. As he briskly returned to the familiar green door and hopped aboard once more, he was anxious to observe the pasture today, as he and his father silently scanned the hills, valleys, rocks and trees for any changes in the landscape. This was his favorite part. Silence never made him uncomfortable instead it was comforting to not have to be forced to share the words that never really described the feeling anyway. At college, the constant chatter and banter of his roommates sometimes suffocated him.

The lines in the man’s face were relaxed too. He also found comfort in this quiet companionship. Suddenly a hawk swooped down and snatched a little field mouse from the hillside. The eyes of both men immediately stopped on the scene and watched the hawk soar skyward again before continuing their wordless scan of their route. There is a writing conference in February in San Francisco, and I'm thinkin' it may be time to go.