While Flowers Sleep | Eastern NC 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.

    Lately, the days have been mild and more like April than January. The snow and ice, a few weeks ago have been about the only reason to have a "winter coat" so far. Of course the bird feeders on the rabbit patch are now desolate in the absence of snow. The hearth at the rabbit patch has been cold for a while-and should stay that way for the rest of the week. Of course, there is the rain that falls on a good many days. The sun hasn't cast a shadow for a long spell.

    I made a pot of soup before I left Elizabeth City, on Monday. Will and his mom both have a cold and I think chicken soup is good for a lot of ailments. Jenny was rocking Lyla in the nursery. It is a beautiful thing to see your daughter rock her baby.

    I drove home under an almost lavender sky. A flock of blackbirds, at least a mile long flew overhead just as I entered a long stretch of the highway. I noticed the winter wheat fields had greened more deeply . Snow will do that . Soft lights twinkled in the homes along the way and so time passed in a pleasant way as I made my way back to the rabbit patch.

    What a commotion occurred when I walked in the back door of the old house. The cats inspected my bags thoroughly with great suspicion, while Cash pranced around and around. The boys were not home and so this was the "welcome wagon" committee-and they were all hungry. It is always the same. Cash, my boxer will run to his food bowl and gobble the food, he left from breakfast as if he were starving. The cats lift a chorus, "singing for their supper" as if they will surely perish before I can get to the pantry. Christopher Robin will sometimes "put on airs" and look at me full of judgement for a while, when I return - but on this day, he did not.

    I made some coffee and sat by the morning table. The dog and cats, with their full tummies claimed their usual napping places while I looked through the window at the untidy rabbit patch territory. Novembers'leaves are still scattered about and now Decembers' branches join them. The "Quiet Garden" lives up to its' name, especially in January. Flowers sleep in January. The whole countryside was quiet and so I gazed out the window and dreamed "like a big shot" for an hour . . . . or maybe a year.

    Winter is often a peaceful time and allows us more time for wishful thinking. We have time to gather our thoughts and decide our priorities. It is a good time to listen for what rings true for our own heart and then consider how to proceed with integrity, in that understanding. To be "true to thine own self" requires a lot of thorough contemplation, after all. The task is not for the faint of heart- nor to be taken lightly, but I take great stock in such things-and in January, while the flowers sleep, seems as good a time as any to do so.