plaid-on-plaid gratitude action
We’ve spent the past week indulging in a three-year tradition of piling a group of fine-feathered friends into a very sexy minivan to give thanks in the Catskill mountains. Sitting on the wrap-around porch of this lovely chalet-style home surrounded by an expanse of mountains and transitional trees really sort of commands gratitude. At this very moment, my senses are being lulled to entranced contentment by the scents of a warm kitchen and hearth, the early setting sun and the sounds of crunching leaves and nothing else.
Each year, the anticipation for this event grows. As we contemplate the year’s blessings, compile a meal list of epic proportions, muse on the ridiculous games we’ll play and the mountain air we’ll refill our lungs with, city stresses begin to melt away.
With our Catskilled Thanksgiving comes a mini-tradition: plaid attire on Thanksgiving day. Perhaps it’s the [naturalized] Canadian lumberjack in my blood, or the “god bless us every one!” Tiny Tim mentality I seem to cop every time we escape to the woods for this holiday…orrr that the rugged, flanneled mountain man thing is just pretty damn hot–but trimming ourselves in tartan just feels right.
When all else fails, red lips. And for dessert — apple pie nails.
This year, I am thankful for the freedom to choose tartan. I’m thankful for this life. I’m bursting with gratitude for a day–err, 5 days–that remind me to do so, for an embarrassment of riches made up of family, friends, food and, always, love. Ok fine, and fashion, too 🙂