Rain and Shine | Eastern North Carolina Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs 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.

    The rabbit patch has been full of shine, these last few days. Rain, and its' cousin fog, seemed to have "hightailed" it off the territory and in its' place has been bright sunlight. The days have been every bit as mild as an Easter Sunday. It seems that the daffodils and the foxglove too, have foolishly fallen for winters' "white lies" about the season. The foxglove is well up and the daffodils around the edge of the barn have joined them. I am hoping they do not encourage the peach tree to do the same. Last year, the peach tree bloomed its' pale pink blossoms-the day before an ice storm. The blossoms are like lovely little pink promises and I especially love them-but they had but a day of glory last year. The morning after their debut-they became brown straw-like flowers-and peaches were scarce in July.

    The twilight hour comes a bit later now. The sunsets have been stunning. The world can argue all day long, but the evening sunset has the "last word" on the day. Its' beauty, is there for the tender hearts and the cold ones too. In this way, we are allowed to agree on something.

    When I was young, my family attended church services every Sunday. Mama curled our hair and we wore our "Sunday dresses" and patent leathers. I detested the itchy laces and my hair did not hold curl past the "Sunday School" hour, no matter how hard mama tried. One Sunday, I was at my Aunt Agnes' house. She had five children and it was quite a battle for her to make sure we all were clean and properly dressed for church. I remember walking out the back door, and the horrible shock on Aunt Agnes' face , seeing my oldest cousin in "dungarees" and walking towards a tractor. Aunt Agnes commenced to fussing with him, though he never broke his stride. Finally she started pleading and then threatening that surely the crops would dry up and die in light of his sinning. My cousin told her, that she needed to read her Bible. "The rain falls on the just and the unjust" he said smugly. Aunt Agnes let that sink in and then stammered for us to get in the car, before we were late.

    My neighbor, Miss Susie, that grows flowers and shares them, tried the apple salad recipe. She used almonds and pecans in her batch. She sent some of it to the rabbit patch-and it was wonderful.

    In January, I miss my sons an awful lot. It is the same every year, when Christmas is over. I know well, that children are meant to grow up and find their own way of life-but it feels dreadful at times. I think Christian has moved out, too. He doesn't have the heart to say it, but he has been "staying" at a friends' house for three weeks, because they work together-and "it's just easier". My sweet youngest son, has always felt bad, that he would be the one that "made me be alone". Of course, that is an unfair burden and I told him so.

    The rabbit patch seems bigger in January and sometimes I get the notion I am "stranded" here. Thank Goodness for sunsets and kind neighbors-for kind words and winter skies. I can only remain grateful under such conditions-and I am glad that the rain falls on the "just and unjust" because I have been both, on occasion.