The first little bird

The first little bird is back in our nest and she came bearing her own seeds.

My youngest daughter Molly came home for Thanksgiving. She walked in the door with an armful of Mason jars full of goodies she’s collected from the apparently prolific University of Iowa campus.

The loot included homemade wild plum preserves, feral apple butter, grape jelly and toasted walnuts all made from the fruits of her foraging.

I am most excited to try the vinegar she made from wild apples and grapes. She collected those from trees and vines my dad planted at our cabin 45 years ago.

These days, those vines are so deep in the woods we didn’t even know they were there. He replanted the apple trees on a berm he built and, for a while, we didn’t think those trees would grow. Apparently, they’re all thriving now.

Molly uncovered the grapes a few weeks ago. She harvested the apples then too.

We’re celebrating Thanksgiving at the cabin this year, which means that vinegar will dress a salad layered with history.

We have three more birdies coming home today and, by Thanksgiving, they’ll all be here.

In a season of abundant blessings, I’m grateful to be counting mine.