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5:36 p.m.
You know that anticipation on Thanksgiving? The house starts off cool and empty and harsh with the child-like clanging of getting pots and pans out of cabinets. In small increments, the house builds warmth, and the chatter and movement and cinnamon-sage scented air swirls in tenderly blown circles around the encompassing energy. When the turkey slides out all golden and sizzling and Momentous, the collective ooohs and ahhs inevitably draws someone with a camera to capture this year's cardinal platter. Then, really, what do you do with that picture? Do you go back through 20 photographs of holiday turkeys? Does it invoke the memory of the day, the people, the warmth? Or is it a pass-by shot, building to the sum of its Thanksgiving parts?
I internally groan at the cliche' of photographing said item. But here I am, not even a holiday, where the chicken emerges all golden and sizzling and Momentous, and our collective oohs and ahhs inevitably encourages dash for the camera. Doubt I'll remember that it was stuffed with lemon and garlic and tarragon. Or that Jack and his friend were buzzing around capturing spiders in the basement. Or that John came home talking about a meeting at work. Or Charlie ever-so-quietly discovering access to leftover Halloween candy. Here it is nonetheless, and I can remember the scent, the warmth, and that the normalcy of the day is full of love, cliche' and all.
I wasn't sure what it was. I take a lot of food photos, because I write about so many restaurants and my own recipes. I don't keep them. I hit the delete button when I "clean house" on my computer. I only keep the ones where the food is surrounded by family or beautiful scenery. As for Thanksgiving...our holidays have gotten so strange the past 2 years, I don't even know where or what I'll be eating, or with whom. When you children move away, it really messes up traditional things.
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