Looking out the window right now on Thanksgiving Day morning I see a light snow falling. There is about an inch of snow on the ground and it is supposed to snow all day. I consider it ideal picnic weather.

I’ve had picnics in the snow before. I find them to be invigorating and euphoric. As everyone knows, food always tastes better out of doors.

Once, on a cold, snowy day, I hiked up to the top of a waterfall. The person I was with and I found some comfortable rocks to sit on just inches away from the icy water flowing over the edge. Opening the picnic basket, I pulled out a bottle of champagne and uncorked it. I then pulled out two champagne flutes, handing one to my companion. After pouring champagne we clinked glasses and sipped our champagne as we watched the snow fall. It did not bother us at all that snowflakes fell into our champagne, thereby watering it down.

We then retrieved our chicken sandwiches and potato salad from the picnic basket and commenced to eat our meal to the music of the waterfall and the silence of the forest and the snowflakes floating through the air.

We did not follow the tradition of giving thanks before we started eating. No, we essentially gave thanks throughout our meal. Our picnic was an ACT of giving thanks. And it wasn’t even on Thanksgiving.

It was the best chicken sandwich I’ve ever had in my life.

— White Feather (Writer on Foot Getting Bread)