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You're built to win it. Welcome to snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Moonlit Rose Hips. Tonight we'll read a Snewscast Plus Deluxe original story about uncovering a special pumpkin pie recipe to feed the community at Thanksgiving. Faced with the impending sale and demolition of Acorn Hollow's textile mill, Emma O'Connell decides that the way to bring everyone together is through their stomachs. A day of Thanksgiving in America has been a sporadic occurrence for most of the country's history, typically being an autumn harvest feast, although sometimes occurring at other times of the year. A Thanksgiving feast was primarily a social gathering, although sometimes some prayer was involved. It wasn't until 1863, when President Lincoln proclaimed that November 26th would be a national Thanksgiving day to be observed every year on the fourth Thursday of November.

Let's get cozy. Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the softness of your bed.

Now, take a few deep breaths. Amidst the rolling hills and verdant woodlands of rural Maine, the quaint town of Acorn Hollow was only a short drive west from Portland in Mr. Henry Ford's newest innovation, the Model A, just under an hour. My horseback, the trip would have been triple that. Emma O'Connell was considering time and distance, sitting in the back of this wonderful machine that her father had just acquired on the brown leather bench seat. As her red hair danced like flames over every bump in the road. Her mother and father were carrying on with a conversation about the upcoming holiday in the front seat, and she was feeling thankful for the comfortable transportation on their way back from the city,

where they had enjoyed a matinee of steamboat Willie and a late lunch at Abbots. She had tried oysters for the first time at her father's insistence, and she was pleasantly delighted to find out she had a taste for them. The journey back may have appeared uneventful, but Emma found herself appreciating every seemingly mundane detail visible through the car window. The world outside, adorned in the subdued colors of late fall, revealed a quiet beauty. The roadside meadows, once lush with summer blooms, had transformed into a mosaic of golden grasses and occasional patches of frost-kissed grains. Emma marveled at how the sunlight filtered through the gathering clouds, played upon this simple tableau, casting a soft, ethereal glow that seemed to paint the landscape with a delicate brush. The dirt road that they had been traveling on three parts through the hour eventually gave way to the familiar cobblestone main street of downtown Acorn Hollow. A place where the pace of life was set by the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant call of the wild. Emma smiled as she passed all the familiar storefronts in the town-square. Mr. Sullivan's hardware store, with a giant hammer protruding from the center of the stained oak sign hung just above his door with a jingle-jangle bell that rang out upon entering. The Waavily sister salon. The eponymous sisters were actually twins who never happened to work at the same time. Emma thought it was a genius idea. Each one only having to cut hair for half the year. Personally she preferred her bangs trimmed by Marlene, or was it the other

one, Margo? There was Mr. Rossi's cobbler shop, who was happy to teach you a word or two of Italian while he fixed your toecap or replaced your soul. Emma greatly enjoyed hearing him say, Kei Bella Prununcia,

after her sincere attempts at learning his native tongue.

And then there was

H.H. Apothecary,

her favorite shopping room.