Last week Christmas arrived in New York City. Along Fifth Avenue, stores like Cartier and Harry Winston bejeweled their facades with festive, sparkling lights. The Plaza Hotel hung giant wreathes in every window. And Rockefeller Center erected scaffolding around an enormous Christmas tree in order to string equally enormous lights.
It is a collision of the seasons. Bleachers were set up this week in preparation for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. In Riverside Park, leaves are still on the trees—and still turning autumnal colors—having weathered a hurricane and a snowstorm.
I live in a perpetual vortex, forever spinning, and never entirely sure of the day, week, month or season. Contributing to my own muddle, last weekend Cherisse and I tagged our Christmas tree. The farm down the road where we get them every year has a dwindling stock, because the owner stopped planting new trees a few years ago. We knew that the number of suitably sized trees would be in short supply and so we tagged early (many others beat us to it). Two days later Cherisse picked up our annual turkey from Pat’s Pastured. The fresh bird is now in our freezer, eventually to be cooked into many different meals to enjoy throughout the winter.
First though, I will try to slow the clock enough to enjoy Thanksgiving at my aunt’s house, with my cousins (and their kids and new puppies!), and then move sedately onto Saturday Thanksgiving at my sister’s…I don’t want to get ahead of myself.