Yesterday’s rain has given way to a bright, pretty day. The sky is a deep blue. A now and again wind blows the tallest branches of the pine trees. It will be in the 50’s.

Yesterday was a good day. Nala met with Santa who seemed inclined to forgive her nefarious ways. I sort of won a turkey. I was the first. My radio station, Koffee FM, was broadcasting from Agway. They were giving away turkeys every 15 minutes. Mine now sits defrosting in the fridge. It is big enough to feed a small town. The Turnip Festival concert was excellent. We had a huge number of players and a wonderful audience. They loved the bluegrass music. Christmas tune practice starts this week.

When I was a kid, I didn’t like many vegetables. My mother cooked what she thought we’d eat. I never tasted Brussels sprouts, turnips, spinach, broccoli and so many more. The list is long. I ate carrots hidden by my crafty mother in potatoes. I ate celery because I didn’t know it was a vegetable. I ate potatoes, fried and mashed. I never gave their status a thought. I loved summer fresh corn, but I also ate kernel corn and creamed corn. I just didn’t like the way creamed corn spread all over my plate. Baby peas were my favorite veggie. It was always on the Thanksgiving table.

I never saw a live turkey. I saw pictures. I also never saw a live chicken. As far as I was concerned they came wrapped and ready for cooking. The turkey had its innards, its giblets, liver and heart, and its neck, stuffed into the cavity. My sister cooked her first turkey with them still inside. My other sister was a bit taken aback when she found out we didn’t stuff the head. In Ghana I had to buy my chickens live. I picked out the ones I wanted in the market, the ones destined for the table. Chickens were never pets. We didn’t get friendly. They were dinner.

Well, the weatherman was right. It did rain yesterday, and the rain continues today, but I have no complaints. All rain is welcome.

Today is busy. My inner sloth is screaming in protest. I have to leave shortly to take Nala to see Santa. She is my only dog without a Santa picture so I’ll remedy that today. She has a list of what she wants, but if I were Nala, I’d be a bit worried about possibly being on the naughty list. The other day I had to do another trash pick-up in the yard. She was so brazen she picked up some trash from my pile and ran with it. I had to trek to the way back of the yard where she had left it. That sounds like the naughty list to me.

When I get back from Santa, I have only a short while before I have to leave for a uke concert in Eastham for the turnip festival. We are playing bluegrass.

On the days before Thanksgiving, my mother was busy getting ready for the big day. Because she didn’t learn to drive until she was in her 30’s, my mother had to wait for my father to take her grocery shopping. Friday was her usual shopping day. I remember my father lugging in all those bags filled with the usual groceries and also the fixings for Thanksgiving dinner. The turkey was so large it took up the whole bottom shelf of the fridge where it defrosted. That took days. My mother would put a few groceries on the counter and on the floor because there was no room anywhere else.

The baking started a few days before Thanksgiving. My mother always made a few pies. For my father, she always made apple. He loved it with a slice of cheddar cheese. Lemon meringue was my favorite. I know it isn’t a traditional Thanksgiving dessert, but my mother baked it for us. Sometimes she made pumpkin, blueberry or custard.

Part of the preparation was my mother would hunt down and wash the serving dishes she only used on holidays. I remember the glass pickle dish and the dish she used for celery. A wooden bowl with crackers and picks was for the assorted nuts. I found the same type bowl years ago at an antique store and bought it. I always put it on my table right near the pickle dish I bought.

It is always before Thanksgiving and Christmas when I most think of my mother who made each of those holidays so special. She was in the kitchen for days. I used to be her sous chef. We’d chat the whole time and listen to music. Those were the best times.