“Over the river and through the wood to grandfather’s house we go… we would not stop for doll or top for this is Thanksgiving Day….”  No poem evokes the memory of Thanksgiving more than Lydia Maria Child’s 1844 poem about the holiday. If you have time, read it with your family (here). So many of us have fond memories of visiting our grandparents or, perhaps, being the grandparent making those memories of holiday fellowship with family. Coming together, breaking bread, and celebrating the generations is at the core of who we are as North Carolinians.

The house above peeks out beyond a make-shift dirt parking lot, waiting to be filled with the vehicles full of travelers arriving for a Thanksgiving feast. Beyond the old oak tree, you see  Early Farms  on Bethel Church Road in Gibsonville. The Earlys are fifth generation farmers; so we imagine they’ll be serving up some savory, Guilford-County-grown vegetables. Who knows, living in a rural part of the county, they may have procured a wild turkey.