The refrigerator can take no more. The shelves are bulging with raw materials. Somehow, there will be alchemy in the next 42 hours, and Thanksgiving dinner will rise anew.
It is, indeed, a miracle. I was moved to tears over the weekend by apples. I stood in front of the display at the farmstand. The apples were delicious. The bounty was unspeakable. The idea that I could have them was overwhelming. And so I cried.
The shopping, the spreadsheet, the cranberry sauce, the planning, they are all done. The leaves are blown. Mostly.
I cannot wait to bring people to my house and to my arms.