>As a little kid, I used to spend Thanksgiving in New England. While most of the leaves had already fallen off the trees, it was still starkly beautiful at my Aunt’s house high on a hill dotted with granite boulders. When the sky was clear, through the barren trees, I could see the stacks of the local mill from the giant window in her living room. It was at her house that I first learned about mincemeat. I still haven’t been brave enough to try it.
It seemed like it would always snow the day after Thanksgiving. Nothing blizzard-y, just enough to hint at Christmas. Back then, there was no Black Friday madness. Sure, we went shopping sometimes, but we were civilized about it. No one would have been able to get up before 7:00 am anyway. It was all about eating, drinking and being merry well into the night…also known in my family as playing cards.