I am grateful that there’s one other Thanksgiving season to be pleased about.
I proceed to be pleased about the reminiscence of Furman Bisher, whose Thanksgiving Day column within the Atlanta Journal-Structure introduced reflective pause to so many readers over time on this excellent day.
I am most grateful for good well being, a loving household and comfortable grandchildren who’re wholesome and comfortable.
I am grateful for the reminiscence of the music of the Kingston Trio and bygone music which did not sound prefer it was being made with a chainsaw and a metal drum. I am grateful for the music of Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and Eddy Arnold.
I am grateful for the blooms of April, the jonquils, azaleas, and the dogwoods. I will probably be eternally grateful that I’ve had the nice fortune to have seen these azaleas and dogwoods at peak on the Augusta Nationwide Golf Membership for over 50 years.
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I am grateful for the numerous participating locations within the state of Georgia, the folks, and the recollections of getting set foot in each one of many 159 counties inside its borders. It is a stunning state with hospitable and enterprising folks.
I am grateful for seedless grapes and Ruby Crimson Navel oranges. For scorching bacon, particularly throughout the holidays, eggs, grits and toast and marmalade jelly. For boiled peanuts and peach cobbler, the most effective earlier than and after deal with there may be. For a Pimms at Trafalgar Sq., a Heavenly Tillie on the Athens Nation Membership, a mint julep at Churchill Downs and a Black Bush on the rocks the place it’s distilled in Bushmills, Northern Eire.
I am grateful that Sidney Lanier left us with “The Marshes of Glynn” and “The Music of the Chattahoochee.” I’m grateful that I’ve caught a rainbow on the Chattahoochee and have additionally caught a rainbow within the Marshes of Glenn.
Recalling these great instances makes me grateful for all the nice instances I’ve had in our state, fishing, and quail searching. I am grateful for the quail hunts which start early within the morning when anxious birddogs start to bark, taking up the rooster’s position because the wake-up announcer.
I am grateful for a stroll within the brush and the woods the place the broom sage waves peacefully and mild breezes converse softly. All of a sudden there’s a birddog rigidly on level. You stroll measuredly within the course of the quivering birddog; your coronary heart begins to race till you’re a few paces from the place outside drama is about to dream. All of a sudden, a covey of quail, with out warning, bursts upward with fluttering alacrity. Photographs ring out, suppers on the bottom.
I am grateful for trout and quail which have been roasted on a grill and paired with greens, pinot noir and love and laughter. I am grateful for a Bubba Burger from that very same grill on the 4th of July when the Braves are in rivalry within the Nationwide League East because the crops are maturing, inexperienced and rising. Ah, such agricultural majesty.
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I am grateful for gospel music with lyrics with no offensive innuendo and insult, simply humble preachments that embrace modesty and religion, hope and charity.
I am grateful for the backroads which meander via the countryside the place grass-feeding cows by no means raise their head, church buildings, with solitary steeples which level to the heavens the place many anticipate to go when their earthly journey is over, and graveyards which remind us that life is fleeting.
Once more, I am grateful for a beneficiant breakfast — Chobani yogurt, a double fistful of blueberries and packet of almonds; adopted by a most important course. You look out to your patio and await your favourite cardinal in his purple cloak to seem. I am grateful that Stan Musial doesn’t fly south for the winter.
I am grateful to your time.