Thanksgiving has always seemed the bleakest of holidays, a time when I don't like to travel, a time when being indoors with the smell of roasting turkey and the incredibly tempting sight of a pecan pie is about all that can redeem the feeling that all those wonderful, warm days are gone for many months, and the knowledge that the early darkness is going to become yet more and more oppressive for a month. I used to especially hate driving anywhere at Thanksgiving time when I lived upstate in New York because that week was the opening of deer hunting season and many cars would have a tawny body roped to the roof with a graceful head, and maybe a rack of antlers hanging sadly down over the rear window. 
Both my bus rides to and from Cape Cod were under mostly sunny skies, which is a special pleasure this time of year, especially when traveling along the coast where the reflection of the ocean makes the light lambent and gently glow-y. Also Rachel and I had a couple of very nice early morning walks with the dog. Once around a graceful little pond and then along a beach where the beach grass (above) was graceful under frost and the fallen oak leaves were outlined by Jack Frost with a thin line of ice. Even the wooden railing beside the wooden walkways had a coat of frost that actually looked furry -- a wonder of nature. So my usual feeling of heaviness at this holiday was well offset with these natural delights.
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