Thanksgiving Day with Herman

Thanksgiving Day.  It is quiet.  Not one phone call *except for Erik my brother wondering what time we need to drive to Phoenix it be with the Townies for Thanksgiving*.  I took this photo of myself laying on top of this rocky mountain about a 5 minute hike from the Serbin Studio home office. 

I am thankful that Serbin Studio is.

...it had been the choice fate of Pierre to have been born and bred in the country.  For to a noble American youth this indeed-more than in any other land-this indeed is a most rare and choice lot.  For it is to be observed, that while in other countries, the finest families boast of the country as their home; the more prominent among us, proudly cite the city as their seat.  Too often the American that himself makes his fortune, builds him a great metropolitan house, in the most metropolitan street of the most metropolitan town.  Whereas a European of the same sort would thereupon migrate into the country.  That herein the European hath the better of it, no poet, no philosopher, and no aristocrat will deny.  For the country is not only the most poetical and philosophical, but it is the most aristrocratic part of this earth, for it is the most venerable, and numerous bards have ennobled it by many fine titles.

*um...bard is a poet, just so you know, and plebeian is one who is or appears to be of the middle or lower order*

Whereas the town is the more plebeian portion: which, besides many other things, is plainly evinced by the dirty unwashed face perpetually worn by the town; but the country, like any Queen, is ever attended by scrupulous lady's maids in the quise of the seasons, and the town hath a brave dress for every week in the year; sometimes she changes her dress twenty-four times in the twenty-four hours; and the country weareth her sun by day as a diamond on a Queen's brow; and the stars by night as necklaces of gold beads; whereas the town's sun is smoky paste, and no diamond, and the town's stars are pinchbeck and not gold.

Herman Melville, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities, published in 1852.