Happy Thanksgiving

Late afternoon yesterday, I drove towards the country roads of the Kingston Pennisula. It is a stunningly beautiful part of New Brunswick, especially at this time of year. Below a blustery stormfront, the landscape rhapsodized in a joyful harmony of colour. It seemed like such a contrast of emotions meeting on the horizon. It reminded me of a moody piece of music played by a full orchestra; one you can't help but feel deeply.

Soon, the road lost its yellow markings, and the pavement became patched and hilly. It curved to the left and then to the right, and hugged the shoreline of the Saint John River, which had widened its majestic flow. The rough waters with its silver shimmering crests looked forebodingly cold. Summer docks, abandoned once again stood silent. As did the boats moored along the banks, waiting to be lifted up on a winter hoist, to be covered in blue tarps, to be tucked in for winter. Abiding respect. That's how I felt.

Openings where barren fields, cropped only a few weeks ago of their bounty appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Old barns creaked by the heaviness of hay stacked to the rafters stood on high ground, their red rusty roofs spoke of the fatigue of days of hard labour. Flower beds in front of farm porches laden with colourful overblooms in big clay pots and hanging baskets of ivy and hardy geraniums dotted the sideroad.

I slowed down to watch an elderly man down along the shoreline, his body angled to meet the wind as he walked the empty sand beach behind his country home. I wondered what he was thinking about.... whether he was reflecting. He seemed to be in reflection. I know I was. It's that time of year.

A combination of evergreen pine, maple and birch trees lined up closer as though they were welcoming sentries on watch. Every time the wind burst forth a new gust through the narrow passages of the standing sentries, their yellow leaves detached and came showering down like handfuls of confetti. Lovely fluttering leafy butterflies. All around, the complicated splendour of autumn unveiled a resonating feeling of gratitude.

No other season encapsulates the feeling of wanting to stop life from moving so quickly as autumn does. No other season generates such a warm glow of gratitude,
for the bounty we have received,
for the harvest we are about to receive,
for the bountiful harvest others need and somehow don't receive.
May we always remember our neighbours.

This morning, the glory of autumn continues with a sunrise which lifted up in a delightful orange glow....the chosen colour of the season. Its new light reflected off the grand stay of tall trees next door, and turned the leaves into glimmering golden embers, like a fire burning way in the middle of the the air.

......a fire within a fire a burnin'
way in the middle of the air.
The little fire burned by faith
and the big fire burned by the grace of God.
Ezekiel saw a fire a burnin' way in the middle of the air.....

This afternoon, we gather with good friends to celebrate, to give thanks, to say grace together. At this time of year, grace is spoken with a timbral reverence. Humility underscores our words of praise and as we gather to hold hands.

If I could only press the pause button so I could stay here a little while longer to taste the sweet nectar of the eternal.....mmmmm, I want to linger, mmmmm, a little longer.......

Happy Thanksgiving.

ps. The last two photos were actually taken from the street I live on. Beautiful isn't it?

oh, and Mr. Chambers? I'm sorry to report that Mr. Piano man will not be joining the Thanksgiving feast today, but you both have an open invitation to break bread with us anytime ........... for the long haul.