The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement.
–Les Nessman

Maybe that’s what happens in Cincinnati; here in NoVA, our turkey is atop a bunch of charcoal and hickory chunks; the smoke wafts upward towards the cold, cloudy, gray sky, and blends in nicely.

Not exactly Over the River and Through the Woods, but good enough for old five and dimers like me.

Happy Thanksgiving!
-k-