While the Moon Shines Brightly | 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.

    It seems a lot longer than four days, since I watched Lyla play by the pink ocean water in the shine of a silver moon. There has been a good amount of details, to tend, since our holiday, at the beach. There is a hurricane to watch, after all.

    Waiting, in general is not a passive state, as I used to think. There is an art to waiting without desperation. I have practiced waiting a lot in life and find to preserve my sense of well being, I remind myself, often, that things happen when they ought to. Waiting for a hurricane, takes a lot of energy in several aspects. I am storing water and am well stocked with all sorts of flashlights, lamp oil and candles. I have bought food that doesn't require refrigeration. We will use the grill for cooking what we can. Thankfully, the rabbit patch does not flood. The creeks will rise and close the road off in both directions, but in all the time I have lived here, I have never had to even wade in the yard. Of course, there are the old trees that stand like warriors, all over the territory. If one goes down on the old farmhouse, I will be "between a rock and a hard place" immediately. It has been raining off and on for weeks, so with the ground , already wet, I must consider the trees.

    Currently, the path of the storm is just unpredictable, so we all do what we can and hope for the best. In the past, we have lost power for up to two weeks during a hurricane. I washed clothes as my great grandmother did and hung them on a line to dry. This took all morning. We took showers in the privacy of the "Quiet Garden" using a water hose. This was a hard time for many folks. Christian and I fared better than most as we wrote poems and played music to pass the time. Reading was very difficult, but we managed til, the lamp oil was running low. I hope we do not face these circumstances again, but I can hardly complain, in light of the suffering of others, I have seen.

    For now, September at the rabbit patch has felt like a visit from an old friend. Every year, September arrives and dependably brings relief from the heat and humidity of summer. Days are bright -or stormy. Mornings are golden-or foggy. Marigolds and chrysanthemums will join the geraniums on the porch. The Autumn Joy, given to me by Miss Susie, years ago, will deepen in color and the zinnias will fade. Shade will gradually grow sparse and at some point, trees will give up the secrets of spring, as the robins' nest will be in plain view. . .and full of old leaves and pine straw.

    Soft throws will adorn chairs and sofas in the old farm house. Now, that it is September, nights are just a tad longer and a tad cooler, too. This morning, I wore a light jacket to work. Even the kitchen table bears witness to the prelude of autumn. Already, I have made a large pot of steel cut oats with a generous amount of cranberries and apples. The cabinets are stocked with dried beans for supper on chilly evenings. It will not be too long before roasts smothered in gravy and freshly baked bread is served on Sunday. . .September changes the world at the rabbit patch, slightly but surely.

    I sit now, at the morning table as twilight falls over Farm Life. Everything is hushed, both wild and tame. The kitchen table , with its' flashlights, oil lamps and stored up water is the only sign that the peace can be disturbed. Meanwhile, the bright moon is rising over the oldest barn and casts a milky shine on the countryside. The air is as still as it has ever been and smells faintly sweet. There are only a few stars out, but they are a fair sight to behold. The beauty of this night in September, fills my heart and leaves little room for things like burdens and worry. The moment is comforting like the love of a mother and as dependable as a steadfast father. Somehow, all my needs-and more, are met . . . and "hope does spring eternal" . . .especially, in September, while the moon shines brightly.

    Dear Diary, I am glad for September with its' pink ocean water and the moon shining brightly. I am glad for the still and silent evenings. I am glad for the refreshing coolness. I am glad for the slight but beautiful change in the rabbit patch that happens in September . . .and the chance to wait, hopefully.

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