When the Elderberry Blooms | 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.

    This week at the rabbit patch, passed swiftly and full of details. Our annual spring dance performance happened last night. I do not get to say this often, but I have danced every day of the week, lately. Supper was from a crock pot several days and Kyle brought chicken home one night. All week, I slept soundly, which gets me to thinking of the many benefits of physical activity.

    The event, normally takes place outside. Most days were beautiful and I was glad to be outside. The stately magnolias on campus and the wild honeysuckle, along the edge of the woods, are blooming. While waiting their turn to dance, little girls made clover chains and I wore a necklace of them, most every day. Little boys presented "good sticks" they found and a fair share of bugs. It was a lovely time. On Thursday night, the rain came. The chill in the air warranted a jacket on Friday morning. I surveyed the campus and called our administration to tell them there was a puddle right by the area where the children were dancing. They asked about the size of it and I told them in the best way I could describe, "that it would hold three large pigs." We moved the performance to the gym, on account of that.

    Jenny, Lyla and Mama attended. Jenny was impressed and Mama praised my work. Lyla was not impressed in the least. She was not understanding why her very own "Honeybee" was putting attention elsewhere. Several times, I announced the next performance with Lyla on my hip. If I put her down, she ran for the drums . Several times, I handed her off to whoever was standing next to me. Still the children danced their folk dances and we were all proud of them. Jenny said Lyla was asleep before they were out of the parking lot.

    Now, Saturday morning has dawned cool and overcast, and the only current details revolve around Sunday Dinner. I could not commit to any menu, til now. In between, the dances, words like "potato salad" would pop in my thoughts. Now, on this cool quiet morning, I have a plan and will not need to enter a grocery store and shop desperately. I will make potato salad, as it turns out.

    Now that, I have the menu for the Mothers' Day dinner, I can think about this last week at the rabbit patch. The elderberry has bloomed. I have a great affection for the flowers of the elderberry. They are flat lacy flowers that make the night air smell heavenly. There are plenty of them in the young patch of woods on the rabbit patch. When the elderberry blooms, the whippoorwills sing. I have heard them this week. The whippoorwill sings in the evening. This habit, seems to make their song a lonesome one. I love the sound of the whippoorwill , but I may become overly nostalgic and lonesome for every thing beautiful that has ever passed from me, if I listen too long. My friend, Julie says that springs makes all of us nostalgic , and I have found her to be right on most subjects.

    Thank Goodness, for the "Bob White". He sings when the elderberry blooms, as well. I remember my daddy teaching me to identify the bird that sings his name. "Bob Whites" sing their name out, like they are glad about things in general. Their song is easy to mimic and they always answer for as long as you call to them. I have never been able to whistle, but the "Bob Whites" of my childhood did not mind, and answered me anyway. I am as likely to call out to one now, as I was a long time ago.

    Dear Diary, Every day in May seems to bear witness to lovely things-things like whippoorwills and Bob Whites-children dancing in sunshine and presenting jewelry made with clovers and the "best sticks" . . . and it all happens in May . . .when the elderberry booms .

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