A Story of Thanksgiving

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A Story of Thanksgiving

Postby Turk » Wed Nov 26, 2014 4:03 am

Dawn rose today veiled behind a gray, silken layer of mist and cloud, vapor and air chilled by a November wind as Thanksgiving draws near like a grand artistic masterpiece. Blackbirds fly in the gray sky backdrop and black, skeletal tree-limbs stretch outwardly in all angles, their withered leaves having fallen, baring the nests of all kinds of birds scattered about nestled securely in the boughs of the small and tall trees standing unconcernedly about the cold wind billowing around them, the fallen leaves encircling the pathways until finding obscure places to rest as tiny pillows for Nature's tiny guests, against the weather-worn fences or the paint-peeling walls of barns or the trees, themselves, weaving into their roots the wondrous cycle and progression of Nature.
The sky of Dawn was gray today, indeed, and the bare, bony tree limbs were ghostly shown, appearing like apparitions still standing from the night before when the November wind howled and thrashed about, sending the robins and wrens, cardinals and jays and the brown and grey squirrels to seek cover and warmth inside old woodpiles and brushy hedgerows and hollow tree trunks like stubborn, old Confederates still smoking their pipes and playing checkers on their old porches in their old chairs. (There is so much good in what and who are old.) Yet, the trees stand steadfastly still like sentinels against the darkness, to remain as true testaments to the wisdom and glory of November Thanksgiving in Ohio, USA.
Across the abundant, furrowed fields of bean and wheat and corn and the random patch of orange pumpkins still dotting the harrowing ground turning brown and cold: Nature's blanket for tomorrow's seed; through the woven and entwining orchards of apple trees and nut and trees of all strength and tenderness, their fruit long-since picked from the limbs so heavily weighted their bending branches turn everlastingly downward like an angel statue forever in prayer. Upon the ground and still holding, clinging to their slender vines like old Christmas tree ornaments, tomatoes and grapes in humble abode, although haggard, they do not really wither but hold fast, steadfast like friendship loyal and true, like sailors to their sails, like soldiers to their flags unfurling freely in the breaking smoke and the November wind with the sky so gray the day seemed lost.
"Nay, " called the cat.
"Nay, " cried the crow.
"Nay, " sounded the hound in the vale gray and brown.
"We are thankful to be that which we were named nearly two decades ago of battles and games won and lost, for the fellowship gained of who we are and why we are still standing proudly even as the gray clouds descend. Our names were then, our names are now, our names will always be:
"I am Honor, " sounded the hound.
"I am Loyalty, " cried the crow.
"I am Respect, " called the cat.
"We are thankful we are here nor do we fear what may befall. For on the ground, worn and brown, upon which we stand, are the fruit and nut and grain reborn from the plow and the goodness from the vines entwined. The Earth is glad and so are we. Today, we sheathe our axe, our bow, our sword broad and keen and sharp and lean them against this old gatepost beside us where we stand in the land of the November Wind. Hoo-ah!!! Happy Thanksgiving all:)
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Turk
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Re: A Story of Thanksgiving

Postby Dirt » Wed Nov 26, 2014 9:04 pm

Yes! And I am truly thankful for Turk and his friendship. He is a real sentinel (like those trees in his story) of honor, loyalty, and respect.
I wish all of you a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving holiday. May it be warm and peaceful and filled with cheer and joy and love ...
and lots of great food and drink :D
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Re: A Story of Thanksgiving

Postby SenorBigotez » Thu Nov 27, 2014 3:25 pm

I wish you guys, your families, and your bellies a happy Thanksgiving! :mrgreen:
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