A Mockingbird Sang on Tuesday | Eastern NC Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant mémoires of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    Rain has fallen the last few days at the rabbit patch-and everywhere around it. The sidewalks end a long ways from the rabbit patch and the yard is muddy. The floors in the old farmhouse are too. I am about convinced that I have swept up a good acre of rabbit patch soil in the decade I have lived here.

    Cash is most uncivilized on these occasions and carries on til he is thoroughly soiled. Christopher Robin looks on with a superior attitude and takes great satisfaction at being a cat, when it rains on the rabbit patch.

    Kyle gets off work early when it rains, as he is a landscaper. Christian plays his guitar or writes music. Lamps light up nooks and corners of the old house making it cozy and bright- and supper is served early -when it rains. It is no wonder that I love rain and that I do not feel gloomy as some are inclined to do.

    Today, before the the rain started falling, I had an errand that required a walk across campus. There are several young magnolias that line the sidewalk. Magnolias are just pretty evergreens with thick waxy leaves in September-but a mockingbird sang in one of them today, and that made all the difference. It was as if he saw me coming and sat silently waiting for just the right moment to break in to his songs. He sang pure and sweet-so I stopped to listen. He mocked several birds and I forgot I was in a hurry, because of it. I could not see him, though I looked. He stopped rather abruptly, so I took a step away and he began a cheerful encore. I stopped and turned toward the tree. I listened to his early morning melody. It was obvious to me that he was bragging a bit but, I didn't blame him. He sang because he could. He was doing what he was meant to do and on this Tuesday, I was glad he did.

    When I remembered my mission, I thanked him and then hastened my steps towards the office. I reckon that coming across a mockingbird in a magnolia is a good thing. I began to think about how mockingbirds acquire their remarkable ability to imitate the songs of other birds. They must first listen-and listen well. It is a good practice, I thought and I ought to remember the lesson from the mockingbird on a Tuesday morning.

    Rain started falling on my way back to the rabbit patch. It is falling now, still and it is way past supper. It is the original "water music" and listening to it is the best thing I know of for a restful sleep.

    I will say goodnight to the world from the porch tonight. I will be glad for things like an early supper, little shining lights and a mockingbird singing in a young magnolia on a Tuesday morning-and the chance to sleep while rain is falling.