A little bit of this, a little bit of that and a few things I learned on the way to someplace else.

No fowl allowed

I woke up early on the frosty morning of the day my baby brother’s baby girl was to become a bride. Coffee cup in hand, I strolled over to take in the spectacular view from the rear windows of the lovely home where we were guests. The north Georgia mountains, purplish in the distance, formed a dramatic backdrop for nearby hillsides vivid with fall color.

Near the rear of the expansive back yard, a dozen fat wild turkeys breakfasted on corn and grain put out for them by my thoughtful hosts.

Their gangly legs and wizened, bobbing heads weren’t exactly what I’d expected to see. Deer maybe, but turkeys?

What sort of omen is it, I wondered, that the first living thing you see on a wedding day is a flock of turkeys?

I pondered that over my second cup of coffee and decided to consider it fortuitous.

Later, over lunch, I told the bride, who shares my birthday, that I’d taken care of a potential problem for her.

“I’ve already seen 12 turkeys today. That’s enough. There won’t be any turkeys at your wedding.”

And, I’m proud to say, that proved true.

Still plenty

I worried that it might be hard to get the “Thanksgiving spirit” this year, what with the near-constant chorus of bad news about “hard times.” Turns out, it hasn’t been hard at all.

In fact, I think this is the perfect year to feel thankful. In times of plenty, we tend to take plenty for granted, to count things instead of blessings. This year, well, we can focus more easily on what really matters.

We still have things for which to be thankful, including cheaper gas and pop-up timers. But it’s our less quantifiable blessings that deserve rich celebration - family, health, faith, freedom, food on the table.

I’ve never put much truck in the belief that hardship builds character. Maybe it does, but that doesn’t make anyone look forward to doing without. A greater truth, it seems to me, is that hard times inspire reflection. And when we reflect, we recognize what truly matters.

Oops, that’s enough reflection. Time to clip those coupons before I go to the grocery store.

A heaping helping

I have a friend who believes, with all his heart, that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. He rarely passes up an opportunity to point out the latest signs.

I see the troubling indicators, too. Discouraging trends are all around us.

Still, every time I prepare to side with the doomsayers, something good - a random act of kindness or a well-planned act of charity - comes along and renews my belief that the glass held by the human race is half full, not the other way around.

A recent example? Nancy Simonton brought me a sackful of hope.

Well, actually she brought a sack full of really delicious pears. But I tasted goodness in every bite.

Here’s why. Nancy’s brother, whom I’ve never met, bought the Lovejoy family homeplace in Hancock County after the deaths of our dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Sport a few years ago. Nancy learned of our connection from some of our cousins, who still live nearby. On a recent visit, she picked pears from the “Lovejoy tree” and took time to bring us some.

It was a simple gesture, but so full of goodness that the man of the house and I were moved with every mouthful.

The loved ones who planted the pear tree are long gone. The ladies who made pear preserves and biscuits to put it on, are gone now, too. With the house no longer in the family, I never thought to taste “Lovejoy pears” again.

This Thanksgiving, I salute and give thanks for Nancy’s generosity and thoughtfulness - and for the heaping helping of hope found in an unexpected taste of home.

Readers may contact Andrea Lovejoy at editor@lagrangenews.

com