I am Glad for Summer | Eastern NC Now

It rained all day long at the rabbit patch yesterday. The rain fell gently and steadily, like a long, sweet song.

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    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.

    It rained all day long at the rabbit patch yesterday. The rain fell gently and steadily, like a long, sweet song. It has been a long time, since such a day has passed. There wasn't a bit of harm in the soft, gray clouds. They were friendly and generous. A light, cooling breeze blew all day and didn't even disturb the loose tin on the old barn.

    I was busy all day, in spite of the rain. I painted four flowerpots and filled them with herbs. This seemed to quiet the complaining thyme. Next, I painted flowers on two buckets. If a bucket can be considered "cute", mine is. I repaired the old drawer, and frankly surprised myself with that feat. I am awful with tools. of any sort. Of course, there was a supper to cook, as well. I decided to have an especially nice meal,as a rainy day, does afford the luxury of "light duty chores".

    How nice, that several of my favorite old movies were on, yesterday. I started with "Gaslight', after that, "The Man Who Came to Dinner" and the grand finale, was "Arsenic and Old Lace". I drifted in and out of the den, while they played. This bothered, me little, as I have seen them all a dozen times. I did some of the painting, in the den. What a wonderful morning, I thought.

    Today, is the "official first day of summer" here. That rings true for me, as we had fresh squash, tomatoes and cucumber salad, for supper last night. Thankfully, Mama shared what she had, with us. Kyle was especially glad, it had rained, as he knows my habit of cooking, on such days. When the kitchen smells, like a garden-it is summer. There are other indications, as well. The stars have increased in number in the night sky- and wild honeysuckle vines cover old fences and act like garlands for the woodland trees. Honeysuckles have a pleasant smell, and most every southern child has drank nectar from their blossoms.

    The "Farmers' Almanac" has predicted a cooler season, than usual-and they are dependable forecasters. This does not hurt my feelings a bit. I have felt every bit as housebound in July, as I have in January. I do well, until it is 100 degrees and high humidity-in that case I wilt. A country woman rises early under such conditions. I was often in the garden by six am, and canning in the afternoon. I have also canned at midnight, so the house wouldn't get so heated. Oddly, I may miss my summer schedule, this year-but I am gladly willing to try a normal life.

    Every chance I get, I go out to see if the bees that have claimed the barn, are still angry-so far they are. It takes a fair amount of bravery to go in the barn these days. They sting through clothing and can sting multiple times. I almost swatted a butterfly, while under one attack. He flew by at precisely, the wrong time. I was so thankful to see him rise above the commotion unscathed. Kyle has mostly finished his work . All that is left for him, is putting in a few new boards. Of course there is also the job of removing the old wood . I will start on that tomorrow. I hope to paint the awning tomorrow, too. On Friday, I am leaving for Elizabeth City.

    I love the careless days of summer. The sun is the only clock, at the rabbit patch, when it is summer. Work, rest and play get their proper turns and I can devote my attention, mostly where I please. Wealth is often measured in dollars, but for me, I think owning your life is a far superior alternative. I have always held that notion and preached it to my children. Of course, when the roof leaks and a barn commences to sag, money is necessary-and there is always the electricity bill. In some way, summer balances the accounts . . and at least in summer, I am very wealthy.

    Dear Diary, It is summer and in summer, I am glad for the rambling honeysuckle. I am glad for the time when the sky fills up with stars. I am glad for tomatoes and porches with geraniums. When hours are counted by the way light falls and shade increases, then it is summer . . .and I am glad.
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