Just after sunup on Thanksgiving morning, still in sweatpants and slippers and tousled hair. Lissa opens the curtain on the big east-facing picture window in our living room so Sadie can see out (Sadie loves to sit on her stool and observe). In the leafless cottonwood across the street, backlit in silhouette, a murder of crows dance ’round the branches.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.