This same time, years previous: kale pomegranate salad, monster cookies, red beans, peppermint lip balm, raveled, butternut squash pesto cheesecake, all a-flutter, apple chutney. and a sparkly confession.      

The day before Thanksgiving and there’s snow. Not just a little dusting, but great fluffy mounds of the stuff. My husband and I lay in bed this morning, listening to the kids thud-running through the downstairs in search of snow clothes. They played outside for a couple hours before coming in for hot chocolate and bagels.

There’s a cheesecake in the oven and cranberry sauce is simmering on the stove. Pastry is chilling in the fridge, and, once the food processor is washed, I’ll make another batch. Tomorrow is all about the pies, and I’ve got time to play.

I’m starting to think of Christmas cookies—what kinds will it be this year?—and am laying the ground work for my first fruitcake ever, making the grocery list and calling the wine shops in search of a Concord grape wine.

It’s not even lunch time yet and the kids are already outside for the second time today. It’s a sweet gift, this quiet house and extra time to write.

But the lights keeps flickering. I’m trying not to panic. A half-baked cheesecake might put a dent in my mood.

I just checked the cranberry sauce. It’s done.

And now I hear the kids’ voices. They’re on the porch, kicking the snow off their boots. I should probably turn my attention to rustling up a lunch. Sandwiches with leftover meatloaf and sweet pickles, I think.

This same time, years previous: a treat, Thanksgiving of 2012, Thanksgiving of 2011, Thanksgiving of 2010, and pumpkin pie.

*daughter struggling to slice mostly-frozen bread for her lunch sandwiches (that’ll teach her to think ahead)
*also, naughty girl is wearing her forbidden S.K.s (shit kickers) in the house
*husband reading, always reading, while eating his standard bowl of granola—this time around it’s Fahrenheit 451 that he happened to pick up
*frosted mini-wheats from Costco—all bought cereal is only ever allowed to be eaten a-top a generous portion of the homemade granola
*two jars of granola on the counter to choose from: regular and French chocolate
*freaking impossible-to-pour jug of milk, also from Costco
*hand towels tossed about: on the table, in the drainer, etc
*at least the drainer is empty
*coupon flyer to Tractor Supply waiting on the table because my daughter has yet to decide if she’ll take advantage of their store discount for her lunge rope and sheep feed
*random apple on counter
*sheet ice (and bowl ice) because it’s fun to make ice in random shapes, I guess
*thermos that is never used but still somehow gets dirty
*by the hutch, husband’s satchel and daughter’s backpack all ready to go
*dirty wineglass from my evening snack (I think I also had Dubliner cheese)

This same time, years previous: how to use up Thanksgiving leftovers in 10 easy steps, the quotidian (11.25.13), a big day at church, a Thanksgiving walk, right now, cranberry pie with cornmeal streusel topping, pasta with creamy pumpkin sauce, apple rum cake, chocolate pots de crème, steel-cut oatmeal, potato leek soup, and feminism part two.