A Winter Night at the Rabbit Patch

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The weather at the rabbit patch is mild, though it is early winter.  Today, I have a few windows up.  The air of winter has a  clean, fresh fragrance.  Often the morning air has a faint memory of woodsmoke from the night before.  In the last few months , days have dawned slowly .  The silvery fog mutes the suns’ first shine and seems to delay the days’ arrival.  Today, dawned brightly-so morning came early.

I am still searching for Christopher Robin, a very young, softly gray colored cat. I do not fully understand the habits of cats.  I have heard stories of cats that return after a while.  I am so hoping this is the case.  His young friend, Moon Shine, seems a bit bewildered and wanders about the farm house, past objects that once enticed him, without much notice. Cash, my loyal boxer seems on high alert and stares out the window, I think, with high expectations.

Late last night, Christian and  I searched the rabbit patch high and low.  We did not find Christopher Robin-but we heard the pine trees whispering as a light wind blew through them.  We stopped a few moments to hear the hushed gentle sound that only a pine makes.  The stars were scarce, but they were as big as I have ever seen them.  In winter, they are scattered about so that the constellations are easy to find.  The starlight was enough to illuminate the old trees-pecans and oaks, the sycamores and sweet gum.  There wasn’t a single leaf on any of them.  I remembered how I love trees in winter as I looked around.

Christian is my youngest son. His shadow in the starlight, was that of a young man.    I couldn’t help but consider that .   I know the rabbit patch like the back of my hand, where every root lies above ground-where the wild violets will bloom in April, but realising I was walking with Christian, now as young man, made it seem like unfamiliar territory .  I saw the outline of an abandoned nest in one of the old trees right about that time.

We came in without a trace of the where abouts of Christopher Robin.  I was glad the night was not harsh, but unusually warm, instead.  We remain hopeful, as is our nature in all sorts of circumstances.

I am cooking a “Sunday dinner” though it is Wednesday.  The boys went to work this morning and will be glad to see more than my fancy china on the table when they come home.  Mama and daddy are coming, too.  As the oven performs its’ duty, I am putting the “Christmas closet” back in order. I will place the wrapping paper and ribbon in the corner.  The box of tags, scissors and tape will go back in and I will post a new list on the inside of the door to record gifts purchased through out the year.  The porch and tree will remain as they are now til Miss Sylvia has her “old Christmas party” in January.  In this way, Christmas does not “vanish into thin air”  as if a crime had taken place-but has a proper farewell, instead.

This day in winter, like the night before it, has been as mild as May.  Though, I can write, no matter the climate, I do not feel inclined to crochet when the sun is shining brightly on the morning table.  I hope to finish  reading “The Mitford Series” this winter .  I am hoping against all odds, for snow, too.

The rabbit patch kitchen smells like a snow has fallen with the ham cooking and string beans simmering-but the open windows tattle that it could be the first day of spring or an Easter Sunday.  After supper, I will go out to say good night and lift my evening prayer of thanksgiving for things like A “Sunday dinner” on a Wednesday night in late December, winter trees and seeing my little son become a young man willing to traipse around a rabbit patch on a winter night . . . . looking for a cat. 

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27 thoughts on “A Winter Night at the Rabbit Patch

  1. Oh no! About Christopher Robin. Hope he comes back. What a lovely post. It’s almost like all of the seasons swept by in your words. I’ve missed your writing. It’s so comforting. It’s strange to have the windows up in December. It was nearly 60 degrees here today and I popped our open as well. There’s just something about fresh air in the midst of winter. PS I can picture you under the stars with your little boy. ❤️ A late Merry Christmas to you.

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  2. That moment when a man stands before you where once a boy stood ~ when my boys reached this watershed moment it made me both cry and burst with pride, I knew my job as a mother would never be the same again yet never alter in the same breath.
    Please come home Christopher Robin your presence is required
    PS put my name down for the book too

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  3. Oh I do hope Christopher Robin finds his way home soon! Thank you for your deliciously evocative prose! (I find the aroma of woodsmoke and fog intoxicating … in fact, I’m currently trying to formulate a fog-scented perfume, and am working on a blog post about it. :)) I’ll be thinking about the little grey guy … please keep us posted!

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      1. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for him, poor thing.

        (I’m in the process of formulating a few fragrances, made with essential oils … not there yet, though.)

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  4. Your last sentence made me want to smile and cry at the same time. Perhaps that is what young sons and lost cats do to me. You seem to cook for others so easily and joyously. Did you learn that from your mom or develop it on your own? I lack confidence and so fuss too much about cooking for others and then nothing made tastes good to me. If we were drinking coffee together, how would you advise me?

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    1. My grandmother said to take my time and not rush cooking-also, use good ingredients and never cook when you are angry -but with love-then pray! hahaha! I do love to cook, but my kids act like it is the best-very motivating. I wish we were having coffee.

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      1. I think when I cook for company, I underestimate how much time it will take and then have to rush and then things go south. When I cook for Joel and me, I don’t worry about the timing and I enjoy both the cooking and the eating, and he does too. There’s probably a lesson there for me. Coffee with you would be a marvelous gift.

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  5. Still praying the the safe return of Christopher Robin. I sat and had a few words with the Lord again about that rascal just before I typed this reply to you.

    Has Christopher Robin been neutered?
    I know that un-neutered male cats love to wander freely and can take days before they come home. We used to have a cat called Mr. Mistoffelees, who we struggled to get neutered because he seemed to know that a trip to the vets was coming up and he’d wander off for a few days so that we couldn’t take him. (We got it done in the end though, and he became a lover of the fireside.

    Sending you oodles of love and will continue to pray for C.Robin. ~ Cobs. x

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      1. Ahh… in that case, sweet Rabbit, … I fear he may be away from home for a few days to come.

        That little rascal, Christopher Robin, might well be, as the song says, ‘making whoopee’:-

        Another bride. Another June.
        Another sunny honeymoon.
        Another season, another reason
        For makin’ whoopee.
        … […] …
        She sits alone, most every night.
        He doesn’t phone her, he doesn’t write.
        He says he’s busy, but she say’s
        “is he?”.
        He’s makin’ whoopee.

        Keep hope burning in your heart Rabbit, and we’ll all keep praying that you find him meowwing outside the door very soon.
        ~ Cobs. x

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