I’m grateful for garden gnomes, cuckoo clocks, gnarly climbing trees, and moss. For coffee and chai and nutmeg. For citron yellow, magenta, map-water blue, chartreuse, and tangerine. For oatmeal, bananas, smoothies, cereal, cinnamon, mochi, and enchiladas. For Trader Joe’s. For making biscuits for the first time today. For lanterns hanging in trees. For all the libraries I have known and loved. For Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers singing “Islands in the Stream.” I’m thankful for vintage lamps. For freshly-brushed teeth. I’m thankful for tall glasses of cold water, and a jelly jar full of red wine. I’m thankful for the pleasure of walking aimlessly. For thrift store velvet. For striped socks, picture books about witches, and for mountains I can see from my front porch. For the remarkable cities I have called home. For fireflies. For my chickens: Mary, Rhoda, Phyllis, Chamomile, Clover, and Hilda. For stacks of books on the nightstand. For Jitterbug Perfume and Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. For low-wattage bulbs. For patches and old embroidered denim. For star-printed fabric and pictures of the moon. And I’m thankful for our wall heater that’s like a fireplace and a gathering spot for our family when we hear its click-whoosh. We meet there. I’m so thankful for them–my four, my loves. And our heat, and our home, which is strung with lights and filled with magic.