Thanksgiving: Ending

Thanksgiving weekend is over.
The grad students have left.
The college grads are leaving tomorrow.

It was a good time.

Noontime Meal

Yesterday morning, the college grads and that Spouse o' Mine joined some other oblivious cyclists to partake in their beloved Pancake Ride. It was 23º outside.

The grad students left yesterday to work on their respective papers and research. The Grad Student daughter called tonight and said they thought they would not work tonight, but rather take in a movie. It's been a few years, but I do remember all the hours that Spouse o' Mine put in for his PhD. It is a long haul, and frequently not too enjoyable. But I reassured the Grad Student tonight that it would all be worth it soon.

The College Boy Skyped us yesterday, and he described his Thanksgiving out on the west coast. The kind family who invited him to join them has a time share in Birch Bay, WA - some 10 miles from the Canadian border. I asked him what it was like, and he first said, "It's a lot like Grandma's & Grandpa's at Hilton Head." Interesting, I thought, and I am happy to assume that all these years at Gma's and Gpa's (our abbreviations) at Hilton Head would have a top drawer in his memory.

This afternoon was a fair amount warmer, and the College Grad daughter and I pottered about in the yard, me, pointing out interesting plants which have not yet succumbed to our 13º nights, and she, digging up and transplanting them to take back to her new home in warmer Virginia. She took our carrots out of the garden. And lettuces. An onion. Also mint. This is what happens when parents allot a plot of "land" to each little kid growing up: now they have that mental seed planted within them, that they should go forth and garden. So even though she has a tiny city apartment, she does have sunlight and determination to make a garden for her new home.

Today the temperature was more moderate, but the wind reared its awful head and blew up to 40 mph. It is most unpleasant to be outdoors in this sort of atmosphere. It leads to bad hair days, to stocking cap/baseball cap attire, grit in ones teeth...oh, I could go on.

But I won't.

Biserka the Dog and I took a late afternoon stroll down to the creek. I took a little tiny video of the trees down there: swaying treetops and whistling wind. The sound, when I closed my eyes, reminded me of the tide at Grandma's & Grandpa's at Hilton Head: