GRAVETTE — We’ve been having lovely clear days and cold nights with a heavy frost Thursday morning and a light rain on Friday. Georgia writer Celestine Sibley described these November days in her book “A Place Called Sweet Apple”: “Now the leaves are gone except for a few tattered brown flags defiantly hoisted to the wind by the maples and the oaks. The grass has been touched by frost and is the restful winter brown that I like fully as well as summer’s bright green. The sunrises and sunsets are daily shows of breathtaking splendor. And in between are the moonlit nights and the days when the sky, like a baby’s face, reflects every mood both stormy and benign.”

The week began with another library commission meeting Monday night. We narrowed down the applicants for library manager, voted to retain our officers a few more months, chose some persons to honor in December and planned our Christmas party.

A heavy frost covered the field Thursday morning and as the sun’s rays melted it rivulets of water dripped off the roof. I was out early to get my teeth cleaned at the dentist. I left there just in time to drive to the Civic Center to meet friends for our monthly J.G.T. Club meeting. We had an interesting meeting and enjoyed sharing the delicious Thanksgiving dinner served by the staff there.After the meeting I came home to find that Mama had fallen. I got her back in her recliner before going to pick up some foot cream for Jim and do a little grocery shopping. We had another library commission meeting that evening and interviewed the final candidates for library manager.

Mama was not feeling well Friday morning so I called the local ambulance crew to give her a ride to the hospital. After examination they decided to admit her. Sister Nancy and I stayed with her until she was taken to a room.

I took items to the recycling trailer and visited Mama Saturday morning. I dropped by the Civic Center just long enough to hear the Cherokee prayer before lunch and went home to watch the Hogs game with Jim.The mail carrier brought a lovely Thanksgiving card from a friend on Stagecoach Road which brightened my afternoon as I did laundry.

We went to Southwest City Sunday morning and visited the kids and grandkids after our return. I made two visits to Mama at the hospital before coming home to fry burgers and warm butter beans for supper. Uncle Holland and brother Richard both called for phone visits as we watched Sunday Night Football.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Donald Hall wrote in his book “Seasons at Eagle Pond” that “Thanksgiving’s turkey is the Fall’s last Fall: ‘Over the river and through the wood/To grandfather’s house we go....’ The horse knows the way, and so does the Nissan pick-up. Though the turkey be frozen and the stuffing is Pepperidge Farm, the Pilgrims’ late celebration of corn and apple and cranberry, of mince and turnip and cider, turns the last key in the door of Autumn.At noon the potato mashes and the gravy thickens. In early dark we lie about, with football breaking its bones all over the living room. And we make Thanksgiving for one more cycle of the year gone through.”

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

News, Pages 7 on 11/25/2009