A stripe of fire streaks across the dawn sky. The rich orange flesh of butternut squash lays bare before my knife. Greens, yellows, and oranges rustle in the dying trees. Raspberry gems dye fingers and dishes crimson. Scarlet leaves lose themselves in evergreen vines. The tattered cover of favorite book wedged on fireplace mantel. Festive Starbuck’s cardboard harkens the season of cheer. Twinkling lights wrapped around street light bows. Chenille throw blanket picking up accents of thick flowered rug. Stacked Valentine’s coffee mugs.
I’m sure my sleepy neighbors thought I was crazy this morning, sneaking around in their foliage, trying to capture the scattered red berries, the tinkling leaves, the winter trees. However, I’m okay if I’m “labeled” strange in my pursuit of capturing the beauty ever changing around me – capturing and giving thanks. Dawn exhilerates, challenges, changes my view. As Creation draws in its first Sunday breathes, I hold mine in wonder.
This morning, my thanksgiving is red. It is orange. It is gift . . . share in my thanks.