Thanksgiving The year has turned its circle, The seasons come and go. The harvest all is gathered in And chilly north winds blow. Orchards have shared their treasures, The fields, their yellow grain, So open wide the doorway~ Thanksgiving comes again Blessings to all the list members from your ListMom Rooting in the past, Kathie The Lord prefers common-looking people. That is why he makes so many of them. ~Abe Lincoln