Yesterday, when the morning came gently to the rabbit patch,  I had a lot of lofty notions.  As it turns out, one hope got dashed, and then another.  I gave up on remaining cheerful alittle while before evening and took to the woods of the rabbit patch, where all things are wild and beautiful.

I had plans to mow, which requires the best part of the afternoon.  I was aggravated  to find the gas can was dry as it has ever been.  This meant a trip to town and back.  I talked Kyle into going for me.  He was back in three minutes, because he never left.  The car needed a repair again, he told me-and he was right.  There went the mowing . . . .and the hopes of buying chrysanthemums for the porch.

That was not the end of it.  I received some unpleasant news in late afternoon.  Nothing “earth shattering” but “timing is everything” sure rang true, in that moment.  Something or other, just seemed intent on disturbing the peace of the rabbit patch, this particular day.  When the loose tin on the barn rattled in the breeze, I felt it sounded like a hateful chuckle at my predicament-so I decided we would at least hang the door that had been waiting a month.  You know it didn’t fit-so, I did what I could do-I called mama and complained.

We ended up cancelling Sunday dinner and sadly, but rightly so-as with great hesitation, I plan to mow today.  My friend Jo Dee, has had a crisis of some sort, the past two summers.  On those occasions, she makes pickles!  Pickles do take a long time, so I suppose it is a  sort of therapy for her.  I have never made pickles that were really “fit”   -so  at such times, I take to the woods and fields.  I did so yesterday.

I must have had the face of despair, because Christian asked me what I was going to do, as he caught me in a trance, in the yard.  I said, ” I am just going to walk” and headed for the fields.  Cash came with me.  No rabbit was going to get me this day!  I walked slowly.  I was going to present my case with precision-but I came up on the grapevine, and started picking the very few ripe  ones.  The fields lie just beyond  the vines.  I stared at them a while.  It is hard to be grumpy in their presence.  They are just so quiet and so unconcerned about things like mowers that are out of gas.  I looked around.  The huge yard is untidy, but at some point it won’t be, I thought.  I sauntered on to the young woods, where the rabbits live.  The bright fuschia berries of the French Mulberry were in all their glory.   To say the woods were lovely  is an understatement-what with the berries and loosestrife randomly blooming- and the wild butterfly bushes had little yellow flutters all about them.  It did not seem such a bad lot, to be “stranded” in such a place.

I never did “state my case”, but instead I felt like I had. The light was fading, when Cash and I made our way back to the old farmhouse.  Cash walked with a great sense of pride, that no harm had come to me on his watch.  I walked back, restored in spirit and regretted ever thinking that this day was less than any other, in greatness.  I had been where all things are wild and beautiful. . . and that had made all the difference.