I spent the week-end at another rabbit patch. My daughter Jenny lives in Elizabeth City-and that place being so full of rabbits helped inspire the name of my blog. Lyla was born last April and we started “strolling” right off. I was amazed at how many rabbits we sighted every time. They are not skittish like their “country cousins”,but will venture close enough to say “hello and how are you?” On Sunday morning, I went out to greet the day. It wasn’t long after,that a fluttering overhead sounded. I glanced up and a flash of yellow swirled above and then landed in a young tree. It was a flock of small yellow-breasted birds. They looked like little golden pears in the bare tree. It was a pretty sight. They shed some glory on my morning and I stared intently for a long while. I just knew they were going to fly at any moment and regretted not having a camera.I tried to note their characteristics for a sketch. Moments or twenty years later -time has no value on such occasions-they flew away and it felt like the day after a holiday! My friend,Rae gave me a beautiful bird identification guide that I intend to consult as soon as I get back to my own “rabbit patch”. I also intend to ask Will’s mom as she is an Elizabeth City native. For all I know, these small birds may be “old hat” for that community. I spent half of my childhood in the woods. It was my playground. In the summer it was not an option as the adults deemed it unsafe. I can recite the lists of dangers by heart today. From snakes and black widows to red bugs and poison ivy-the woods were off limits. It always seemed a long time for the first frost to arrive. When it did,all was well and I “took to the woods” again. My daddy taught me how to know one tree from another and I still remember that. The annual “leaf collection” for school ensured those walks in the woods. What a sweet memory that afforded.That was time well-spent and though forty years have passed, the memory of collecting leaves in a brown paper bag warms my heart. My cousins and I knew the woods thoroughly. We knew where every abandoned house was as well as old cars and tractors. There were no clocks in the woods,other than the sun. We became experts at telling time by the shadows. They fell certain ways at certain hours-and we were well aware of that. Only the smell of supper broke the spell of our ventures. In the country,smells and sound carry a long way. I wonder now if all of that freedom in my childhood,led me to celebrate a morning full of yellow birds. It surely couldn’t have hurt-and I am glad of it.