Thanksgiving time is the season of bittersweet vine flourishing and the yellow caps of the reddish berries are falling all over the lasting snow in lovely designs. It’s easy to stay outdoors for a long ramble where I meet few people and spend a good amount of time bending over to look closely at patterns and colors. This morning I awoke from a dream in which I was visiting an old and dear friend in town, A–, (we raised our children together), and two women, mothers, still raising young children in town, joined us at his house for the visit. The mothers were looking at their children’s calendars and I said, cheerily, that I remembered being at that stage, but I was not there any more, and neither was A. The four of us were sitting there in his living room trying to decide what to do on our visit, which I realized, later, was like an adult play date. Looking out the window, I very much wanted us to go outdoors and play. I suggested we take a ride on A’s sleigh, but he said he no longer had it. Too bad. I’m in this new phase of life where the only calendar I have to pay attention to is all mine. I really did want a ride on A’s sleigh!