Fall is officially here. Leaves are changing color, weather is cooling down and it’s leaf scuffling time.
In Canada we have Thanksgiving coming up the second Monday of the month. It has been an official holiday since November 5, 1879. It celebrated the harvest and other blessings of the past year.
According to Wikipedia on January 31, 1957, the Governor General of Canada issued a proclamation stating: "A Day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed – to be observed on the second Monday in October."
Thanksgiving corresponds to the British and continental European harvest festival with churches decorated with cornucopias, pumpkins, corn, wheat sheaves, and other harvest bounty. British and European harvest hymns are sung on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend.
While the actual Thanksgiving holiday is on a Monday, Canadians may gather for their Thanksgiving feast on any day during the long weekend; however, Sunday is considered the most common. Foods traditionally served at a Canadian Thanksgiving may include roasted or barbeques turkey, ham, stuffing, sausage meat, mashed potatoes, yams, gravy, cranberry sauce, corn, various autumn vegetables (including squashes and Brussels sprouts), and pumpkin pie. Various regional dishes and desserts may also be served, including salmon, wild game, butter tarts and Nanaimo bars.
The Canadian Football League usually holds a nationally televised doubleheader, the Thanksgiving Day Classic.
Many communities in Canada hold events in the week prior to, and/or on the day of the holiday. It could include a parade consisting of floats, civic figures in the region, local performance troupes and marching bands.
I’m still plugging slowly along at my editing, but I have difficulty concentrating. My muse has apparently taken a long vacation or is staying safe from Covid. It’s on the increase in my area and all over. We have the highest number of active cases since the pandemic began.
Here’s an excerpt from Witness to Murder.
Excerpt from Murder Off-Leash.
Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the right, Mitch pulled the car into the service station, stopping at a pump one over and the pump behind her. He stayed in his car, attempting to slide his large frame down into the seat, pulling his Yankees baseball cap over his eyes.
“Fill’er up,” he mumbled to the attendant. “Oil’s fine.”
The attendant, a pimply-faced kid in his teens, removed the lid from the gas tank, cautiously eying the large dog lying in the back seat as he filled the tank. The dog raised his head and let out one bark. The attendant jumped back, spilling the gas. “Jeez.”
“Don’t worry He doesn’t bite.” At least I don’t think he bites...maybe I should buy a muzzle just in case, Mitch thought to himself. He had no idea why he had that dog in his back seat. He didn’t even like dogs, hadn’t since he’d been bitten by that damned Doberman. He had overcome the fear when he’d joined the force, but he still didn’t like the damn animals.
He turned and looked at the large sad brown eyes, as the dog lay slobbering all over his seat. “It’s okay, boy. It’ll get better. It can’t get much worse.”
Mitch paid the attendant, then shifted the gears of his older model, slightly rusted, dark blue Chevrolet. The car looked more like an old family sedan, but he’d had the engine rebuilt under that slightly rusted hood. It could take almost any damn car on the road. Every once in awhile some hotshot teenager would rev his engine as he pulled up beside him at a stop light, challenging him to a race, laughing at his heap. Mitch always enjoyed the shocked look on the kid’s face when he left him behind, eating his dust.
He eased the car forward, pulling out of the service station and moving to a spot on the street where he could watch her in his rear view mirror. She and the kid had gone inside the convenience store.
Mitch reached into the brown grocery bag on the seat beside him. Just in case she didn’t stop, he’d picked up enough junk food to last for a couple of days, including dry dog food and a couple of jugs of water. He’d also managed a stop at one of the fast-food drive-thrus along the highway, when she and the kid stopped for lunch. The fries were cold, but still not too bad. He bit into another hard, cold, greasy one, and waited for her next move. He could sure use a cold beer about now. He should have picked up a six-pack. He scratched his chin, then rubbed his hand up his cheek. He needed a shave. Like that was going to happen.
The whining started in the back seat. Then the shaggy head appeared, resting on the top of the passenger’s seat, leaning over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch grabbed a hand full of dry dog food and dumped it on the back seat. He’d have to get the damn car vacuumed one of these days.
The dog slid back down on to the seat, munching away on the dry food. He appeared to be in mourning if dogs did mourn. Most of the time he just kind of lay there on the seat, whining occasionally. He hardly even barked anymore.
This month, I’m only doing my Group Blog on October 15th at https://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/
Please follow me on my blog Tuesday and Thursday and the third Saturday at https://beverleybateman.blogspot.com/ for writing tips, hints, and guest authors. I have a great group of authors and their new books this month. And post your thoughts on the blog post, or anything else you have on your mind.
Enjoy the fall and happy Halloween!