Monday was an event

Grandson  Keenan  sent a photo on Facebook this morning. A Pretty basket of my small perfectly formed pumpkins and ears of Indian corn. The caption noted the earliest  record of Thanksgiving was forty years before the pilgrims arrived in North  America.

I had speculated on Monday, Thanksgiving had been started by  indigenous people. We were gathered in a circle around the fire. I asked if anyone knew of the beginnings. The  pioneers had been taught  so much by first nations people to help them survive.  We knew of devotion to Mother Earth and I was willing to bet they themselves originated the celebration.

There were no takers.

Thank you. Keenan .

Heather's family are campers. Sun, sand and water in the day. Camp fire at night under the stars surrounded by trees and small creatures moving about in the dark .Excessive noise is not permitted in provincial  camp grounds. There's no rule against spontaneous outbursts of laughter that sends tears
down one's face.

H&A have graduated to a modern camper with electricity. They enjoy regular little jaunts  with Adam as well as the summer sojourn. Adam and Andy ride a bicycle built for two.

They read,watch movies on smal technological devices and play scrabble and generally relax

Thanksgiving Monday was pretty much like that. The backyard is sheltered. The  fire pit takes large
logs . Everybody had a comfy chair. Stephanie is as much a part of their family as their own. She was first-born grandchild when Andy and Heather were sweethearts.

Conversation  is easy. Everyone has memories and laughter to share. I took advantage of the moment to share a conclusion I have recently reached.

I believe when a person dies, their energy continues. It never leaves us. It just flits about like a butterfly,lighting here and there,until a host presents.  A newborn child in the family is the obvious.

I had previously thought knowledge and comprehension were carried forward in genes.

Now I've changed my view of the universe.

I like this one better.