…and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go.”
That’s exactly what I did for Thanksgiving this year. Grandma-in-law lives in Fitzwilliam, NH and just down the road from her house is a lovely view of Mt. Monadnock. (At its summit Hubby proposed to me in March ’07. Brrr.) She hosted 13 of us moochers for a feast of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and other delectibles. Since I don’t eat meat, Grandma cooked up a lovely piece of breaded fish just for me. (A very thoughtful and generous gift.)
The highlight of the day happened right after we sat down. Everyone was just digging into their meal when someone mentioned that Grandpa (who passed away before I met Hubby) would have loved this. At the mention of Grandpa, the overhead lights flickered. Everyone paused and looked up. This same person reminded us that the exact thing happened last year at the mention of Grandpa. There were nodding heads in rememberance. It was slightly spooky but oddly comforting at the same time.
After the meal, some of us walked along the public dirt road to a frozen lake with a view of Monadnock. The ladies in the group played bocce ball using small stones with the lake as the court. My childlike curiosity came alive when I noticed, in an unfrozen section, a small whirlpool doing its thing by a submerged access tunnel leading underneath the dirt road. Cool.
Back at Grandma’s it was time for desert. Hubby had to work until 2 p.m. but made it to NH while we Massholes were chuckin’ stones on the lake. We left as it was getting dark but the food made us grateful for family and tradition. More pictures can be found at my Flickr space.