I don’t remember the first time I missed going home for Thanksgiving, but it was probably sometime in college. Since then so much has changed in our family and the flimsy framework of traditions we once had have been swept to the side in favor of new things. That being said, being in Boston for Thanksgiving didn’t feel a whole lot different. Granted, the windchill of -2 when I woke up was not at all normal. That level of cold is shocking. Evidently this was the coldest Thanksgiving in Boston history. Considering they have such an exhaustive history of Thanksgiving meals… that’s saying a lot. Can we also discuss why I end up in places that have “the coldest ever” while I’m there? Still not over 2012 China with average temperatures of 4*F.  

Most of the day was spent cooking and watching the Macy’s parade before the arrival of several coworkers. The dressing stuck to the dish a little bit and the creamed corn tasted like it came from a can (because it did), but the green bean casserole was perfect as always and the pecans caramelized perfectly on top of the sweet potatoes. The mulled wine (also called “crockpot wine” because we come from a trailer park, I guess) made the cold not feel so cold. 

There are still leftovers in the fridge that I have gorged myself on at least once a day since Thursday. 

Per tradition, I worked the Friday after Thanksgiving and missed all the fun group-hikes (which is fine). Saturday was a bit warmer (40s) so I traipsed around Walden Pond in my boots & flannel. The deciduous trees have all lost their leaves ceding to the rich greens of the pines, hemlocks, and spruces. I passed a woman in conversation with a man in his swim trunks saying the old glacier water hovered somewhere around 40 degrees. Too cold for my taste, but halfway around the pond I shed my big parka and sat for a while on the one rock I found not covered in snow. I guess the snow only turns to rain in Boston, which is okay because the roads are clear and there’s no ice, but these grey skies are something else entirely. 

My little upstairs loft has been decorated for Christmas for weeks. I couldn’t help myself after Halloween disappeared in a heap of candy. Christmas records are on top of the stack, garland lines the banister, and nestled under my twinkle-lit four foot tree are a few gifts already wrapped. There are winter candles all around and my advent calendar hangs waiting for December 1. 

This is truly one of my favorite times of the year. I love the coziness of it all and I really have this thing for evergreens. There’s something in the way they handle four extreme seasons with poise and grace. 

Cheers to cold, cold winters and hard candy Christmases with plenty of hot chocolate to go around.