It’s Saturday morning, farmer’s market day. I’m so thankful for my farmer; I get fresh, local produce all year long. February feels so much less barren and cold when you hold crisp, green and red chard in your frozen fingers. But I’m getting ahead of myself; it’s only November. Thanksgiving.
I’ve been bumping into the subject of gratitude a lot lately. I know it’s Thanksgiving and the season for being grateful, but I’m finding the subject come up in all sorts of places that have nothing to do with the holiday, for instance in random books I pick up. Maybe I’m just being more aware because it’s in the air, but I am thankful. I have such lovely friends, a “rugged” husband (that’s secret code; he’ll understand, and believe me, it’s funny!). We have a new president who brings hope. Pesky little annoyances have been working themselves out. We have this really cool new computer. Life is good.
The thing is, I’ve noticed that the more grateful I am, the more good stuff happens. Now this may be a little woo-woo for some people to take, but woo-woo or not, it works and I’m accepting it in my life and being grateful for it.