When Snow Blossoms | 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.

    I left Elizabeth City around three on Sunday. It was a bright and cooler day than Saturday had been. Jenny and I took a stroll with Lyla early in the afternoon. We walked by the flat rock, where Lyla and I sat on summer days, across the little bridge and along the banks of the "laughing" river. Lyla spied out every pumpkin display, while Jenny and I shared some hopes and dreams. We smelled my favorite rose on Raleigh Street and had a visit with a friendly dog. When we got back home, Jenny took Lyla upstairs for a nap, and I loaded my things in the car-and headed back to the rabbit patch.

    I do not like driving, as some do, but the weather was fair and clear-and traffic was especially light. I thanked God, that Will and Jenny lived just an hour away. Just a few short years ago, they lived in Wilmington. I can not drive in the heavy traffic of Wilmington. Everybody seems late for something and folks drive like they have nine lives on any given day. I am just not suited for driving in such conditions-and everyone agrees, on that. Will was offered a job in his hometown., Elizabeth City and Lyla was born two years later.

    I thought about such things as I drove by massive fields, where corn used to grow-and across the three rivers. . .back to the rabbit patch. When I turned on to the road I live on, I noticed "snow had blossomed". The cotton fields were white and they do look snow covered, once the bolls have opened. Some folks have taken to using cotton in arrangements.

    Sun and shadow fell in long slanted streaks when I pulled in to the rabbit patch. I noticed the roses seemed to have had a "second wind". They were blooming cheerfully along with the floss flower and the "old house flowers" Kyle had dug shamefully, from a ditch, years ago. The loosestrife, that Mama does not like, has seen better days and will need to be cut back shortly-and the grass needs mowing. Pine straw is beginning to fall from the old Pine at the front of the yard-and pine cones too. Pine cones are the best thing I know of to start a fire with, but gathering them is slow and painful work.

    Christian came out as always, to carry my things in. Cash ran around the yard at "break neck speed" as he does when I come home. I started supper straightaway-and another pot of oats and fruit, for my breakfast this week. I have had oats and blueberries, oats and pumpkin, oats and cranberries . . well, a lot of oats. I sure wish biscuits were good for you.

    When supper was finished and the oats were cooked, I settled in for the night. I did go out a bit later to say good night. The sky was clouded and there was no sign of Lylas' "little moon"-nor a single star to wish on. It is very dark in the countryside in the absence of heavenly shine. Cash sits beside me on high alert, looking in every direction. If he ever barks-or even growls, I am likely to dash through the ginger lilies to the back door . . and say my prayers, at the morning table, instead.

    Dear Diary, I am glad for walks by a sleepy river with Jenny. I am glad for "little moons" and roses that caught a "second wind". I am glad for resting fields and I am especially glad for "snow that blossoms".