Thanksgiving Eve

On this Thanksgiving Eve day, the ground is covered with light snow. Early this morning, streets were coated with the wintry mix that fell between yesterday's snow showers. More snow and wintry mix is forecast for tomorrow.

I wonder if we will travel to Omaha for Thanksgiving with my sister's family or stay tucked in at home. Yesterday I picked up a few Thanksgiving menu items should we stay home due to weather. Regardless, our reasons to give thanks are the same: warm home, knitting, books, health, friends, family, safe community, clean water, and an abundance of food. The list could go on.

This hymn comes to mind, "For everyone born, a place at the table, for everyone born clean water and bread." I wonder how we create such a world.

My sweater is coming along swimmingly. It is a joy to knit. I finished yo-yo-ing up and down the first sleeve. I wonder if I have ever knit a sleeve as specified in a pattern. Last night I cast on the second sleeve which will go more quickly. I am looking forward to wearing this sweater. Sometimes stockinette in the round is the perfect knitting.

I read some familiar and some new-to me poems in Ask Me by William Stafford. What makes the rhythmic cadence of words so peaceful? I wonder about the relationship between the rhythm of poetry and the rhythm of quiet breath?

I wonder if all these green dry leaves will fall before winter.

I never wear a cardigan I knit years ago but the wool yarn is lovely. I bought the yarn in a shop in New Hampshire a trip celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary so it has some sentimental value. Could I reclaim the yarn to knit a different sweater? I wonder if I have enough yarn to knit a top-down sweater. Do I want to tackle this project?

Words and how they are used make such a difference. I wonder how anyone can think otherwise.

A bully of a robin chases all the finches feeding on berries in an ornamental pear tree. Why? Isn't there enough for all? I can't imagine the robin could eat all of them.

On a blustery November day, a blue jay clings to a small branch at the top of a full grown locust tree. Why doesn't he seek better shelter?

I wonder if I really spotted a Carolina wren? If I correctly identified the bird, it was north of its usual habitat.

I wonder if I'll find an idea for a Christmas poem. Every year I have similiar doubts but eventually an image or thought comes to me. As my daughter sometimes says to her children, "patience grasshopper." A little more faith would also be a good thing.

If as my teabag tag says, "The voice of your soul is breath," is wind the soul of the earth?

As I read After Emily: Two Remarkable Women and the Legacy of America's Greatest Poet., I wonder if women (in first world countries) choose better life partners than they did in the 19th century. Do today's women have more agency in their work and/or choice about vocation? I marvel at the persistence of Mabel Loomis Todd and her daughter Millicent Todd Bingham. How many stories have been lost because powerful institutions took advantage of work done by women or men without status? This tangled history of the publication of Dickinson's poems and letters is fascinating and well written. The author does a remarkable job of sorting and presenting facts and documentation. She clearly identifies speculation and inference. In my opinion, this book is excellent nonfiction.

My seven year old computer has been in the shop being cleaned and tuned up. I wonder if I can get six more months of use from it. This weekend I'll catch up with blog reading and perusing Ravelry.

I'll link this journal of wonder to Juliann's site about Just One Word - 2019 and Kat and the Unravelers. Stay warm and safe if you travel this weekend. Happy Thanksgiving.