My mother's house is a garden.
She has beautiful living plants all over her home. I use the word living to differentiate between the dead plant currently resting peacefully on my kitchen table and the living plants she keeps in every room of her home.
Yesterday was a lovely Thanksgiving. We ate delicious food and just enjoyed one another's company.
My baby brother Nick turns 21 this week. In celebration of the baby becoming a man--we decided to open the presents my grandma gave me to put under the tree. (There is no tree... We don't really get very Christmassy...) It was a riot. We were staring at this box of presents and my mischievous mother just says, "You know, we could just open the presents now..." I got a couple of books and a pretty necklace. It was awesome. Merry Christmas to me!
Then we watched Doctor Who together. And again... Merry Christmas to me!
One of the books is about a man who makes his fortunes finding and growing exotic plants.
It seems everyone is better at growing plants than I am.
Today, I am grateful for my family. I'm grateful for a beautiful home to visit. I'm grateful for people who keep plants alive.