It's hard to believe almost a week has passed since we celebrated Thanksgiving at my daughter's house on Peaks Island. For the second year in a row I was a "Lady of Leisure", spending very little time working in a hot kitchen, opting instead for raking leaves with the grandchildren and pulling them up and down the hilly road in the little red wagon. There were chickens to chase and pathways to explore while my daughters and their sweeties did the majority of the preparations. I appeared on the scene in time to make gravy and whip the potatoes into submission with plenty of cream and butter thrown in for good measure. It was the cooks' first turkey ever and they did a magnificent job. The stuffing was the best I've ever tasted and the cranberry sauce was especially appreciated by the littlest pilgrim of the bunch. 
After the feast we went for a walk in the moonlight and spent several moments enraptured with the spectacular bonfire someone had built on the beach to welcome weary holiday travelers. The exercise and brisk fall air whetted our appetites for the array of desserts waiting for us back at the homestead.
There was much clamoring from the children (as well as the grown-ups) while daughter Rachel whipped a bowl of cream to go with the savory spice cake, warm apple pie and the unbelievably drop-dead gorgeous/melt-in-your-mouth Pumpkin Mascarpone Pie. Oh my, oh my, OH MY. Next Thanksgiving, I just want THAT for dinner. With a little stuffing and a smattering of dark meat on the side.
Other than sampling all 3 desserts, my favorite part of the day was walking the 4 blocks from the ferry terminal to the car with my little granddaughter's hand in mine. We trudged along. Tired. Full. Happy. Thankful.
And that my friends, is how we should feel at the end of Thanksgiving, or any day, for that matter.
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