Turkey Weekend

Creeping down the stairs at five a.m. this morning, I was transported back to my childhood.  I had to get the turkey dressed and into the oven so the bird would be ready for the family, scheduled to arrive at one p.m.  The darkness and chill of a Northwestern Calgary early morning surrounded me, but there was work to be done.  I got at it. 

In earlier years, I experimented with goose, duck, Cornish hen.........you name it.  Didn't we all in the early seventies?  Afterall, we were smartypant's.  Fruit stuffing, rice stuffing, potato stuffing -- anything went, but over the years, I have reverted to turkey and the Stapledon family dressing:  bread crumbs (made from frozen crusts stored over the past few months), onions, celery, sage, savoury and sausage.  A big tube of it.  The secret's in the fat.  Yeah, fat tastes wonderful. 

I remember my grandmother and then my mother and aunts doing the turkey in the early morning because we always had "dinner" at noon, a holdover from their rural beginnings in The Ottawa Valley.  Dinner was at noon and supper the evening meal, a much lighter fare.  I started remembering festive dinners at my grandparents' on Cartier Street in Ottawa.  My grandfather was in charge of buying a live turkey at the market, which he brought home, killed and then de-feathered in the back garden.  I think he burned them off.  It was mesmerizing to watch.

It's now 7:30 a.m. and everything is in the oven and starting to smell beautiful.  The sun is rising and it's a delightful day.  I am grateful for the many gifts I have been given in my lifetime.  Today, our granddaughter is six months old.  What an exquisite Thanksgiving gift she is.