Florida Keys Thanksgiving

From the Field Notes: A Different Kind of Harvest

The calendar tells me it’s mid-November, and even here, where the seasons blur into a gentle rhythm of sun and breeze, the mind begins to turn towards the holidays. Back on the mainland, I know the leaves are turning brilliant shades of crimson and gold. There's a crispness to the air, a call to gather indoors. But an island Thanksgiving... that's a story told in a different palette altogether.

For over twenty years, I've celebrated this holiday in various corners of the world, and I've learned that the spirit of gratitude is wonderfully adaptable. Here in the Keys, it sheds its heavy coat and slips into something more comfortable. Thanksgiving isn't announced by frost on the pumpkins, but by the way the afternoon light softens over the turquoise water and the pelicans seem to linger a little longer on the dock pilings.

Our harvest isn't one of wheat and corn, but of the sea's incredible bounty. The centerpiece of the table is often not a turkey, but a magnificent grouper or snapper, fresh from the reef and grilled with lime and herbs. The salty air is the only brine we need. Instead of cranberry sauce, you’ll find mango salsa, and the traditional pumpkin pie gives way to its revered local cousin: the cool, tart, and utterly sublime Key Lime Pie.

What I find most beautiful about it, from an artist's perspective, is the setting itself. The dining room is the open air, under a thatched tiki hut or right on the sand. The tablecloth is the shifting pattern of palm shadows on the ground. Our soundtrack is the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of a gull.

It’s a powerful reminder that the core of Thanksgiving isn’t about a specific menu or climate; it's about pausing to appreciate the abundance around you. Here, we give thanks for the warmth of the sun, the richness of the sea, and the tight-knit community that makes this slip of land between the ocean and the bay feel like home. It’s a meal seasoned with salt and gratitude, and it is, in its own sun-drenched way, perfect.