Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving
Music is: "Over the River"
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Mother was a great cook.
But Thanksgiving was not a big deal at our house.
Our budget did not allow for a turkey,
so the same old chicken was served at our table.
Not being much of an eater, I just wanted to get Thanksgiving
out of the way so we could have Christmas !

Martha, stuff the turkey

Beulah, bake the pies.

In this old-time kitchen

Tradition lies.

Gone the ancient stovepipe,

But the turkey and the pie

Are just as much alive today

As you and I.

Mother could make tiny, delicate bisquits
that literally melted in your mouth...
and cornbread to die for !

Flour

By Grace Noll Crowell

I sift this flour on my board;

It is so clean and good,

And, handling it, I am a part

Of all earth's womanhood.

For women's hand have kneaded flour

To loaves since time began:

Each toiling for her own small brood,

Her own beloved man.

I see the darkskinned women kneel

Beside their footworn sills

To grind their grain beneath flat stones.

I see today's great mills....

Tall shafts of light across the land

That nations may be fed....

And flour becomes a sacrament,

My loaves, much more than bread!

To the guest who conplained
that the blessing asked at dinner had been inaudible,
the host replied, "I wasn't talking to you."

Bread

by Elizabeth Coatsworth

It could not be so very wrong

If before starting to make bread,

When all was ready to begin,

A little prayer were said.

Bread hs its holiness. Remember,

Among the hopes in the Lord's Prayer

For spirtual things, bread, simple, lowly,

Finds mention there.

Another Fall Page: Mother's Scrapbook

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