From the Diary of a Country Woman | 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.

    After, the anniversary celebration, for my parents, yesterday, today was quiet and as ordinary as a Tuesday. I did make the "early service". A mist shrouded the countryside on this first morning in July. I caught a glimpse of a female tanager flying from the top of a pecan tree. The sight of the golden yellow bird is not a common occurrence, here on the rabbit patch. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of her mate, as he is a handsome bird as red as a cardinal, but he was no where in sight. I gathered a small collection of sycamore limbs. These trees show no mercy and are constantly dropping something. They are shedding bark now, as well as branches and in a few months it will be round pods of seeds. Then, for the grand finale, sycamores drop leaves the size of dinner plates, in the early fall.

    Tres spent the night at the rabbit patch, so I did not tarry too long. Tres never sleeps late. When Tres is here, we always drink fancy coffee and breakfast is likely to last a while. It is a tradition now, for us to talk about the details of our lives while breakfast is cooked, eaten and put away.

    When, I came in, Tres was grinding coffee beans and the kitchen smelled like morning.

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    The conversation over coffee, lasted til the mist had cleared and the territory was bathed in a hot sunshine. I was not having a "Sunday Dinner" today. I suppose most of the family, was having left overs from the anniversary party, as everyone left with containers of things like potato salad, cole slaw and the lovely carrot cake.

    I did do some laundry, but mostly, I took the day off to read. I listened to a few lectures and researched the tanager birds. I try not to feed birds when the world is full of berries, as it seems in some way, I am hindering their natural inclinations . . .(except, when conditions are quite unfavorable or we have left overs, that it would be shameful to waste) . . but if I did, I now know that the rarely seen tanagers would enjoy grape jelly.

    The heat and humidity drain me of motivation to tackle yard work. I finally cut the air condition on, which meant I had to close the windows. I miss hearing the songbirds and tractors rumbling in distant fields. The house will not smell like magnolia blossoms nor the sweet mimosa, either. I so wished the summer vacation took place in months like October.

    I am now in the habit again, of saying my prayers, outside each night. There is something so sacred about it, for me. No matter the constant changes in life we must endure, the heavens remain steadfast. The moon may be waxing, but it rose over the field in a majestic manner and it was almost pink. It joined Venus, which has been a "showstopper" as of lately . . .and at least ten thousand stars. I am always in awe of the sky, but there is something about the night sky particularly, that does "declare the glory of God".6a9ab7a2423857a097bafce03177e321Since it is now July, I do not care that today is Monday. It was already hot at the "early service". I did do a little weeding and when the spirit moves within me, I will venture out again. I do have to pay bills and have a "business" call to make. I dread both tasks. I do not like "business affairs" at all and put them off til the last possible moment, which makes it all the more nerve wracking. I deem anything that is"official" on any level, as "business" which includes getting the oil changed in the car or having my drivers license renewed. I would much rather do battle with the relentless southern vines than have "an appointment" of some sort.

    In my meandering, around the territory this morning, I saw that the last iris is spent. I already miss them, for they are like old friends to me. Spring seems fleeting every year, but this year we had record rainfall and just a few short weeks of delicate temperature. One lone foxglove is blooming, I noticed sadly . How did such a sentimental heart grow inside of me! I so wished June could have lingered a bit longer. I did cheer up when I saw that the "rose -of-Sharons" are full of blooms and a new one has sprung up. My aunt Carolyn gave me the seeds in a brown paper bag, not long after I moved to the rabbit patch. I could not think of planting a thing at that time, and so they got tossed in a drawer without much thought. When I came across them again, I felt ashamed and so I put them in a pot and wished them luck. I was on a mission to make the farm house livable and it took every waking minute. That first summer, every article of clothing I owned, had paint on it and I was covered in bites and scratches, when school started back. I did not have one moment to plant flowers. Somehow, the seeds sprouted and so I planted them in the yard and again, wished them luck. Aunt Carolyn passed a few years later. Today, her "rose of Sharons" give shade. I am especially glad for the one that "volunteered", for I can take it with me to the next "rabbit patch". Flowers are a lovely way to remember somebody.8abedf2609df217a5f8b7f6096b631ae

    I spent the afternoon doing all sorts of jobs, that I do not like. I went through my filing cabinet, which is really a dresser. I can never figure out just how long to keep a receipt. I am always sure the moment, I throw one away, some dispute will arise and I will have tossed the only proof of my innocence. The truth is, technology has really done away with such archaic methods of "proof", mostly. In this case, I decided a year was long enough to satisfy my need for a paper trail.

    Next, I cleaned the freezer out, which really did not take long, as I am determined not to waste food, and so I keep it orderly, on a regular basis. Later, I started supper, for at last, the left overs from the anniversary party, were gone.

    The diary of a country woman is anything but glamorous. It may lack mystery and thankfully, dramatic conflicts. This diary is just an account of what I have found to be " true, noble, right, pure and lovely" . . . with high hopes, that others will "think about such things" , too.