November 28

We are thankful for the little things on this day, apart from the feelings of security in family, friends, and home. Perhaps above all, we recognize that in the waning of this year, as the darkness settles in for the long haul ahead, we begin to tally the experiences large and small that this year has provided.

These are the things that sustain us through the winter that will be, with the hope and anticipation that we will experience them again as one season of rest gives way to the cycle of renewal.

My own tally of this Paxton year includes:

• The sight of the first yellow crocus, revealed as the snowpack recedes from the garden’s edge
• The laughing cry of the pileated, startled by my presence in its woodland home
• The mist that hangs above the wetland on Route 122 near Brooks Road, catching the rising sun and making ghostly shapes
• The lonely cry of the blue heron as it flies alone overhead in the waning light of a still summer evening.
• The smell of the diesel tractor that crests the ridge in the field across the road, dragging a plow that turns the fields to chocolate brown
• The predawn view of Orion in early autumn, seen overhead from Grove Street, framed by the late season trees on either side of the road
• The summer smell of Davis Hill Road after a rain shower, filled with the perfume of sweet grass and milkweed blossom.