I've been saving this painting by Oleta for Thanksgiving, for it seems to speak all by itself for this time of year and this particular holiday. The old man feeding a chipmunk and the glowing golden color make such a lovely autumnal image, and, of course, it is the sharing of food that is at the heart of drawing everyone to the table on Thanksgiving Day to celebrate thankfulness.
The holidays are difficult times for many people, and not just those who are homeless or alone but also those with enormous Texas-size families that include grandparents, parents, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. In the United States we have our two major holidays back to back, way too close together for comfort, and right smack in the middle of my favorite season of the year.
I really do like to turn away from the great hustle and bustle of the world into the quietness of this painting, for here Thanksgiving has been distilled into its essence, and, truly, I cannot think of one single word that I could add to this extraordinarily beautiful painting. It speaks so perfectly for itself.
My husband and his mother Oleta and myself will spend Thanksgiving together. We'll eat at a round wooden table in our kitchen by the window that looks into our backyard. And after we have eaten, we'll take a little tour of the backyard to view the progress of a brick path that is being laid down there, with old bricks slowly gathered from here and from there. The path is a winding path, and it is more than half-way now to one of its destinations: the back gate.
We'll look at the wild roses that grow on our back fence to see how they are doing. These roses all came from cuttings that Oleta gave us that she got from here and from there. Our little world is filling up with bits and pieces of the outside world.
We'll look at our garden which is in a very sad state, but I have high hopes for it for next year, and we'll gather pecans, if we can. This is the year for pecans, for we have a crop every other year, but the summer was so dry for so long, we are not sure if there will be very many this year.
And we will be thankful for our own list of blessings. Amid all the great bounty of this world, it is sometimes the very tiniest of blessings that are the most precious, the most poignant.
Thank you, Oleta, for this wonderful painting which captures one of those most precious of blessings. Happy Thanksgiving to all! And I will be back again after the holidays.
(Courtesy of Phil Armitage, Glacier National Park, USA)
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