THE FIRST SNOWFALL

The weatherman predicted on Thursday, and again Friday morning, that the first significant snow fall would descend sometime on Friday. I stopped on my way home from work Thursday to purchase mittens, gloves, and some needed baking supplies. If we were going to get three to six inches of snow, I wanted to be able to bake. On Friday evening, however, when I took the dog out after supper, the snow hadn't started. (Sometimes I wish I had decided to go into meteorology so I could make the wrong predictions most of the time and still have a job.)

As the evening progressed, I kept in touch with my hubby who was on his way home from New York. (He's a truck driver.) When he finally called to tell me he was three miles from the truck stop, I pulled on my shoes, threw on my jacket, and shoved my hands into my gloves. As the headlights pierced the night sky, they revealed a light snow descending from the sky. It had indeed started, and I was much relieved that my husband was not going to be driving into the storm.

When I awoke Saturday, my hot tub displayed a thick blanket of snow and the white stuff was still falling. It fell all morning, finally stopping shortly after noon. The tree branches are still dressed in that thick jacket of snow. As I drove to the nearest Walmart, I noticed that the snow had fallen so gently that the tall weeds stood erect with their massive caps of snow.

This morning, the clouds are breaking away to reveal a deceitfully warm sun in a calming blue sky, for the layer of white on the ground tells the truth: it's cold outside.

THANKSGIVING TRADITIONS

Traditionally, Thanksgiving was always celebrated with my large extended family. Although the last of my grandmother's generation was laid to rest more than 20 years ago, my mother and her cousins kept the family traditions alive until recently.

Fond memories of a relative's home redolent with the roasting turkey lurk in the back of my mind. The white linen table cloth set with the good china, crystal, and silver. The kitchen abuzz with the cousins making gravy, mashing potatoes, and carving turkey. The various dishes contributed by the family members attending the feast. In the days when I was in elementary school, there was an adult table and a kids table. It was a long wait for food because serving dishes were first past to the adults and then to the kids. Later, when my grandmother's generation passed the hosting down to my mother's generation, the meal was served buffet-style. Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings included turkey, at least one kind of stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy, squash puff, creamed onions, corn, a jello salad, some type of dinner rolls, and finished up with pumpkin pie.

This year, however, new traditions have been created. Dinner was still at my mother's, but it was not the large extended family. Instead, we feasted with my oldest son and his girlfriend and her two boys, my youngest son, and my husband: in all we were only a total of eight - a far cry from the 25 to 30 family members that gathered when I was a kid. Instead of a golden bird decorating the table, a beef roast with gravy and cheesy overnight potatoes filled the bill of fare.

But, although some things have changed, I am thankful that I have raised two descent boys, that I have a loving, wonderful husband, that my mother is still a vibrant lady, and that I have a job, a roof over my head, and food in my fridge.