|Walking to the magic garden in November.|
Every time I go there, I find him healthy and happy, and we have long talks.
Even though it seems I do most, if not all of the talking, he always seems to give me new perspectives and ideas and inspiration.
Today, I found him cooking breakfast on a Coleman stove, bacon sizzling in an iron skillet, coffee perking away, hot oatmeal ready to serve.
Nearby a brook gurgled and I could see the movement of trout in the shadows.
Ponderosa pine, fir and blackjack bordered most of the garden, which was alive with sunflowers, bumblebees buzzing, hummingbirds and meadowlarks.
In the distance, blue mountains, dusted with snow, rose in the crisp autumn air, but the morning sun warmed the garden where we sat down to chat.
Hawks soared overhead, as grey clouds began changing the blue sky.
We sat on camp stools by the little morning campfire, savoring the smell of woodsmoke, bacon and coffee.
Sipping that coffee, I told him that tomorrow was Thanskgiving Day, and while it is a family day, it is also a day of memories for many, and of loneliness for others. The "holidays" are like that--a two sided coin...one side warm with comfort and joy, and the other cold to the touch.
Then he just looked around his magic garden, and I followed his gaze, drinking it in like another sip of coffee.
He didn't utter a word, but I know what he said.
Every day is a day of thanksgiving.