We made our usual daytrip to Farmville, Virginia for Thanksgiving. My brother starts cooking the turkey out in the yard at five thirty in the morning in a smoker that he built a few years ago. The turkey skin turns absolutely black, but the inside is not even related to the ho-hum roast turkey that comes out of most ovens.
John and Ella are both afraid and entranced by the pack of hound dogs that have the run of my brother's house and yard. Ella needs her own little hound to follow her around.