A Good Dog and Floss Flowers | 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.

    On Saturday, I made the "early service". It was both beautiful and glorious. It matters little to me, whether it is over field or ocean, I find daybreak to be holy. It happens everyday-and always has, but this does not make it ordinary, nor lessen the grandeur of sunrise. The choir of songbirds do not attend as they did before, and so in their absence, it is mostly silent.

    It was so very cool and pleasant out. I noticed the floss flowers were everywhere. How pretty and daintily they grow, with their clusters of periwinkle blossoms. I think all the floss flower needs is a handful of soil, for they grow everywhere they please. The wind plants the seeds of the floss flower, and they "bloom where they are planted". I also noted the grass needs mowing again. This is no small task at the sprawling rabbit patch. Rain is coming and I should mow today, I thought. At least while mowing, I can entertain lofty notions. In the past, I have solved problems as I mow and written poems. My loyal boxer, Cash will watch me mow, always on the alert, should I stall the engine.

    I went in and put a pot of beans on. I planned to make the popular vegetable burgers for my lunch this week. The beans need to simmer a good while. I eventually talked myself into mowing, while they cooked.

    The sycamores are dropping the first of their leaves now. The leaves are the size of a dinner plate. If neglected, the leaves curl and form layer upon layer, deep enough to hide a small pony. The grape vines are full this year. Kyle has picked them several times, already. The pecan trees are bare. The chives are blossoming again. They are the only herb in the garden, earning its' keep, just now. I use the blossoms to flavor all sorts of dishes. The beauty berry bushes are claiming a fair share of the young woods. What a striking contrast they lend to the countryside, with their branches laden with fuschia berries. The "autumn joy" is splendid with the mauve spikes of colors. I disturbed a small flock of butterflies as I mowed. The phlox remains stalwart as ever. I did not not solve a mystery today nor have any "big ideas", but the day was bright and beautiful . . and Cash said he loved me several times. He came running when I stopped to move sticks. Once I got stuck. He watched me struggle and it made him nervous to see me in that predicament. He moaned and pranced around til I had freed the mower. When I caught a small stick in the blade, the mower made a harmless, but unfamiliar sound. Cash ran and barked at me, til I stopped and dislodged the thing. Other than that, Cash watched me mow every area, from a safe distance, in the shade of some old tree.

    I did not finish mowing in time to see the local news. but the national news said a shift had lessened the amount of impact, here. My heart goes out to those in the path of the storm.

    A few new things transpired this week. I am learning to play the cello. I decided a few years ago that one day, I would. I thought it would be a healthy and pleasant hobby. The motion of the bow is opposite of the violin and the finger placement is different. This has proven to be a challenge. I am forced to think in a new way from the way I have thought when playing the violin,but it intrigues me greatly to do so. Lyla started preschool.

    Now everybody thinks this is grand-including Lyla. Jenny is doing a part time internship for school and the the nursery is just two mornings a week. I do not know why, it has taken me so long to get used to the idea. It does not affect my life nor change a thing-well, it means Lyla is growing up. She has a back pack and a lunch box-and "school clothes". She already has a friend and a sweet teacher. I have liked everything I have heard about the school, yet it means something to me and feels very significant. Oh, it is a tiresome thing to have a very sentimental heart.

    Dear Diary, I am glad for the bright beauty berry that fills the woods-and the floss flower that "blooms where it is planted". I am glad for mornings . . and I am especially glad for a good dog, that helps me tend this rabbit patch.