“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts.
No Americans have been more impoverished that those who, nevertheless,
set aside a day of Thanksgiving.”
With grateful hearts we celebrated Thanksgiving. It was 20 degrees outside but we were warm. We had food to eat and clothes to wear. We had the company of those we love the most . . . our family. Grandpa built a fire on the deck, in the fire pit, just outside of the kitchen window. We ate a special french toast with cream cheese, baked apples, scrambled eggs, hash browns, fruit and juice. We were full. We sat around the table. The children watched The Snowman. When the table was cleared, the children made paper turkeys with googly eyes.
Baked apples are from the past. People don’t make them much anymore. We ate them for breakfast and took some to the neighbors. Hot. With squiggles of whipping cream on top which melted quickly on the warm apples. They were good. In the newspaper this morning was George Washington’s Thanksgiving Proclamation. It was reminder to express gratitude for all that we have. He thanked God first . . . and so do I.
12 medium size Gala apples
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon ground nutmeg
1 square of butter
1 cup of apple juice
Core the apples without poking the knife through the bottom
Use a potato peeler to peel off the top one third of the peel
Place the apples in a baking dish
Mix together the sugar and spices and spoon into the apples
Top each apple with a thin pat of butter
Pour the apple juice over the apples
Cover the apples with foil
Bake at 325 degrees for one hour and 10 minutes
Cool five minutes
Top with whipping cream
“We can only say to be alive in those moments when our hearts our conscious of our treasures.”