Thanksgiving in Connecticut

I harvested a large bag of curly kale, several heads of broccoli, red peppers, beets and arugula to contribute to our Thanksgiving dinner and lunch the day after. Local food, yes, but it would not be eaten at home in North Carolina. Instead it traveled in a large cooler in the back seat to my brother’s home in Northwest CT. Does this count?

I have heard this called the Marco Polo rule of eating local, but my family does not really discriminate in this way anyway. They are not locavores yet, but they know that I have a garden, and that this time of year I still have an abundance of fresh vegetables. And they like that. They get the fresh part, and so I bring whatever I can.

Meg and I packed lightly to accommodate the more important cargo of veggies, a dozen pottery plates (made very locally 30 yards from our house), a bag of local wine and a large pottery jar that is being delivered to Manhattan.

And we gathered, sixteen of us. And ate, lots. And sang, lots. And laughed, often until we cried. I instituted the twelve-second hug which was a big hit.

I am one of the lucky ones who has much, yes, lots, to be thankful for this year.
Amen.