There's Much To Be Thankful For

Across the Fence #523

Thanksgiving week begins the eleventh year of “Across the Fence,” and I’m thankful for all of you who read it every week. My thanks also to all the newspapers that run my column. Thanks to the publishers and editors who have provided the opportunity for us to visit across the fence each week. I’m very grateful. If you like reading “Across the Fence” be sure to thank those publishers and editors for including it in their papers.

During Thanksgiving there’s one song that I’ll always associate with the season. “Over the River and Through the Woods” is a song about taking a trip to visit grandparents and other family members on Thanksgiving Day. The new snow and cold weather that descended upon us, fits right in with this old song that we learned and sang in our one-room country school many years ago. “Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go; the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh through the white and drifted snow. Over the river and through the wood, oh, how the wind does blow! It stings the toes and bites the nose, as over the ground we go.” 

Things have changed a lot since those days, but I still love that song. Truth be told, a lot of things have changed. Now WE are the grandparents in our family. Our grandparents are gone and our parents and our children’s grandparents are gone. Except for my Amish friends, I don’t know anyone else that travels by horse and sleigh to grandmother’s house. This grandpa and grandma will be traveling by car to our daughter and son-in-law’s house for Thanksgiving. Our grandson and granddog will be there to greet us at the door. We’ll travel over some rivers and through some woods, and if this snow keeps up, we’ll be going through the white and drifted snow. The wind may blow, but it won’t sting our toes or bite our nose because we’ll travel in the heated comfort of our car. Travel was much more challenging for our ancestors when they made those Thanksgiving trips in an unheated sleigh. 

Our families are now spread out across the country, from coast to coast. At our Hanson cousin’s reunion last summer, we reminisced about the days when everyone got together at our grandparent’s or one of the aunt and uncle’s places for Thanksgiving when we were young. Things have changed a lot since those days when most of us lived within walking distance of each other, except for our Indianapolis cousins.

When our kids were young, we lived in Madison. We alternated Thanksgivings, going to Linda’s folks in Platteville one year, and my folks in Westby the next year. It was usually case weather when we went to Westby, and we had to help take down tobacco. That’s when there’s heavy fog and the cured tobacco leaves get pliable enough to take it down from the shed without ruining the leaves. Seems like there was case weather every Thanksgiving we spent in Westby. Now that tobacco isn’t raised here anymore, it’s always cold and snowy during Thanksgiving. It got harder to climb up in the shed every year. I liked doing that when I was young, but I’m thankful this Thanksgiving that I don’t have to do it anymore.

This winter weather gets tougher to endure as I get older. When I was young, we could hardly wait to get out and play in the snow. When I was cross country ski racing, I couldn’t wait for the first snow to arrive so I could strap my skis on and hit the trails. Today I looked outside and it was snowing again. At first I was thinking what a long winter this was going to be. It was 3 degrees in Sherpeland last night. Then as I sat and watched the snowflakes gently falling against the backdrop of the pine trees west of the house, the beauty of winter came back to me. I decided to go for a hike in the falling snow. I have two arthritic hips and my “good” hip has been bothering me lately. It would have been much easier to just sit on my butt inside where it’s warm, but life’s too short to let some minor problems hold us down.

As Norwegians say, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes.” I dressed appropriately and out into the cold and falling snow I went. I walked around the back forty, over to Birch Hill, and back around the fields of the farm. I examined animal tracks in the snow, followed deer and coyote trails to see where they went, listened to birds singing, and enjoyed the beauty of the the falling snow and the winter wonderland it was creating. It was exhilarating and therapeutic. My arthritic hips didn’t even complain about the workout they received.

I find a special joy while exploring and enjoying the solitude of nature. It lifts my spirits. John Burroughs said, “I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”

We have much to be thankful for. This Thanksgiving, may your stuffing be tasty, your turkey plump, and may your potatoes and gravy have nary a lump. Have a great Thanksgiving.

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