Sing a Song of Six Spence | 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 was "pitch dark" when I got up this morning. The house was chilly, but not nearly as cold as Saturday morning. I was up early enough to get a lot of reading done and drink coffee as if I were a "lady of leisure". I went out and the morning air was so fresh, I could have "drank that too." I wanted to just stand there and breath it in deeply. I really love the morning time, when so many things seem possible. It is my favorite time to write. I do not like too much conversation, right off. Instead, I like to collect my thoughts and imagine for a while. My late husband would wake and want to discuss things like "car insurance", within minutes. He dropped that habit, early in the game, as I was most uncooperative.

    There was good news at the rabbit patch today. I came home to a functioning stove with two working ovens. I got a good deal as I traded enough scrap metal, to off set the cost dramatically. I wanted the scrap metal gone, so as to tidy up and so I was pleased all the way around. I am going to make that gingerbread, not long after supper.

    I am especially busy at school these days. The classes are preparing for the holiday concert on December first. Each class will present an international song in the native tongue of the country, studied. One class is playing hand bells, some are playing glockenspiel and then there are the violinists, which are close to two hundred, in number. The children are a pleasant and loving lot. Today in the midst of a very busy time, a little boy said he had a gift for me. He pulled a smooth, bluish rock from his pocket and presented it shyly. How many rocks have I been given, in my life-from my own children to the many students. I have come to love rocks. After I expressed my appreciation, the child said he had another surprise-and he pulled out a sixpence! It was a lovely little coin and he assured me it was ok with his mom, for me to keep it. I told him we would put in my "treasures" chest, just in case, he needed it back. I tucked it among seashells. a paper airplane, colorful bits of string and other rocks. I thought of my friend, Cobbs from the UK and made a wish for her as the six pence nestled among some autumn leaves. What a sweet parcel I saw as I peered into the box of "treasures"-oh, we really ought to strive to "become as children". . . to give with such freedom, things they find lovely and want to share.

    My son, Tres has a dog that gives a gift of a pine cone, or a stick whenever he sees you. At the first sight, of a loved one, he takes off and returns with some trinket. Cash, my own dog, has seen this and follows suit, as well now. Giving, is a beautiful habit, and what an appropriate time for me to be reminded of that.

    By the time the gingerbread was ready, I was deep in reading some works by Thoreau. I read another of his quotes, that I have taken to heart. I like Thoreau. He makes me think- and reflect. He also causes me to search my heart for impurities, which I vow to cast out. I am also reading the "Ladies of Covington", which does not make me think or entertain "lofty notions". Instead, it is more like a friendly visit with old friends, unfolding in the chapters. Ovens stop working at their house and flowers bloom, too-just like at the rabbit patch.

    A heavy frost fell at last. It is about a month late, in comparison to former years. How the tender shoots of winter wheat thrive in such conditions, are beyond me-but they do. The earliest morning light on a frost covered field, creates quite a spectacle and when I saw it this morning, I thought how even the day begins with a gift.

    "To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts." - Thoreau