A Friday morning wakes me with a sore throat and tired body. The day begins - breakfast, laundry, putting away clean dishes.
I am willing to just have a go-with-the-flow day. We stay in our jammies and play paperdolls and read and just hang out together.
We've been studying the Pilgrims this past week and I just don't want to pass the opportunity to make Wampanoag Corn Bread (thank you, Story of the World) so I set out the ingredients and get ready for little helpers.
Side note: getting ingredients ready like this has been huge in reducing my stress of help in the kitchen! Their favorite things to do are dump in ingredients and stir anyway - and I'm all for reducing stress.
We don't exactly have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner since I'm under the weather. But, I had fun pulling out homemade things - grape jelly, applesauce, local honey, a trivet that David made as a child and hot tea for soothing throats.
I opened a non-homemade can of soup for further comfort and what a comfort it was! Even when I wasn't feeling good - it revived my soul and mind to just do these small things of beauty. Setting a table, arranging glass jars, pouring warm liquid and smelling the homemade bread.
Simple, lovely, cultivating thankfulness. This is truly what the first Thanksgiving was all about wasn't it?
It was a milder day outside and our porch beckoned (mainly because the table was clear - ahem) and I enjoyed the simplicity and lovliness and nourishment of the food and time.
As I was forced into a day of whispering to preserve my throat, I was thinking about quiet and what I could learn from this forced silencing.
... to be continued tomorrow.