One of the best gardeners I know had an ambitious plan for his extended family’s Thanksgiving dinner: He set out to grow everything but the turkey. Over seven months, he succeeded. He grew corn, potatoes, carrots, green beans and other vegetables and, of course, pumpkins for pies. I think it’s safe to say he was pretty proud of himself. He was ready for gustatory greatness.
But three days before Thanksgiving, his entire family, in the midst of one sibling’s very divisive divorce crisis, cancelled. My friend was furious and disappointed.
But he made a fast pivot and saved the day: He invited several friends, who were delighted to gather around his table for that homegrown feast. “It all turned out just fine,” he said.
This is just one of an infinite variety of Thanksgiving dinner challenges. Others include political arguments, drunkenness, every possible variation of family dysfunction, picky eaters, and guests who show up too early or too late and/or don’t know when to leave. Many of these problems don’t offer a possible solution as successful as my gardener friend’s.
Then, of course, there’s all that can go wrong in the kitchen: dry turkey, lumpy gravy, scorched Brussels sprouts, runny pies, and out-of-control piles of dirty dishes before dinner is even on the table.
Why do we do this? The menu, the meal – and even the guest list – are intended to focus our attention on all we have to be thankful for.
To do that, it might help to make Thanksgiving an occasion for more improvisation. Let’s free ourselves from rigid definitions of success, and aim for less angst, less conformity, and deeper, more genuine gratitude.
Let’s start with a list of what we don’t need to do:
So why, the discerning reader may ask, is a gardening columnist writing about this? First, I was inspired by my gardener friend’s story of growing all those vegetables with a Thanksgiving meal in mind.
But there’s an even bigger reason, too: all the food we eat starts with the magic of photosynthesis and the growth of plants – from pumpkins for the pie to the grains that make turkeys plump and the phytoplankton at the base of the aquatic food web that nourishes salmon.
To a gardener, photosynthesis is a vivid miracle we participate in every time we plant a seed that sprouts and grows. It’s the wellspring of our urge to gather and give thanks for the mystery and marvels of creation that nourish all life on earth.
We should let nothing distract us from sharing this gratitude with the people at our table. To me, the most successful Thanksgiving dinner will be the one that inspires those who eat it to share this spirit every day, with everyone.
Thanksgiving, we might note, is a compound word: thanks and giving. For this one day, we focus on thanks. If we do a good job, it will put us in the right frame of mind for the coming season of giving.
Jill Severn writes from her home in Olympia, where she grows vegetables, flowers, and a small flock of chickens. She loves conversation among gardeners. Start one by emailing her at jill@theJOLTnews.com
4 comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here
TerryLiberty
Nicely written. You make good points. Thanks for the article!
Saturday, November 23 Report this
Boatyarddog
And on THAT note:
Enjoy your Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 25 Report this
OldKid
You have a lovely way with words!
I, too, treasure nature's process, as everything has a purpose, and happens in its own time. Gardening is a perfect way to practice patience, nourishing and tending to something outside ourselves, and valuing the harvest by processing it and sharing with others.
Keep spreading the joy!
Tuesday, November 26 Report this
PegGerdes
"Photosynthesis is a vivid miracle" as a phrase deserves to live in our hearts and minds all years long. Thank you. And here's to a great day of Giving Thanks!
Tuesday, November 26 Report this