Where Rabbits Run Wild

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Sunday is another time I love-especially the morning, when “Sunday Dinner” is cooking.  I did not plan to write in the diary this morning, but when I had put the ham in the oven and stringbeans on the stove, all sorts of thoughts came to me.  I realised it is just second nature for me, to write while I am cooking.  Of course, it must be slow cooked food.  I dare not cook bacon or  biscuits, as such things are liable to burn, while I am “finding my words”.  Christian has learned to keep vigil over the stove, if I am writing.  It is the same with music.  Once, I was learning a new piece on the violin while supper cooked.  My husband came in with a look of sheer panic.  The house was filled with smoke and I had not even noticed!  After that, he always said I would “fiddle, while Rome burned. ”   Jamie died in his thirties.  Had he lived, there would have never been loose tin on the barns at the rabbit patch.

I waited to fry the cornbread til Mama called and said they were on the way.  Cornbread does not keep.  I was putting it on the table when they came in.  I made the pineapple dessert I had eaten at “Homecoming”.   I had guessed at the recipe, and it turned out anyway.  

Mama and Daddy left to go listen to music, played in a barn.  One day,  am going, too-but today, I cleared the table and decided I would mow.  The grass has dramatically slowed down, but the weather was perfect and when I heard a neighbor  start their mower, well that  cinched it.  

 When I  went out, I would have sworn it was late March.  The grass was tender and so green, beneath the leaves.  The air was a little  damp and cool.  I saw a patch of clover by the stable and then caught a whiff of something familiar, but out of place.  It was the wild honeysuckle. A few blossomed here and there- and I felt young again and drank the scent in, as if I was perished.  I was really surprised to see a few apple blossoms, when I mowed in the little orchard – It seemed that there was quite a masquerade, on this day, at the rabbit patch.

The french mulberry is dull now with muted berries and the autumn joy has stopped boasting altogether.  I frightened the rabbit community when I took to mowing the wooded path.  They scattered hither and yonder .  How they run straight away into briers and bracken, at break neck speed  is beyond me.  The country rabbits are not friendly like their  cousins in Elizabeth City, I thought

I made good time  mowing today.  At last, a belt came off, and being almost finished, I didn’t even try to repair it.   As Cash and I walked back to the house, I made mental notes of things to be done before cold weather sets in.  This is a lovely place I thought, as I looked around.  It is hard not to feel a great affection, for a place you have tended for more than a decade.  It is some sort of relationship.  Is it because I have worked the soil- and I know where the wild violets will grow?   The trees that give shade for the weary in July, are like old friends, now.  The land has fed us too,  and that makes a difference.  Whatever was on my mind, the garden knew about it-and the “Quiet Garden” knows my secrets.

Cash was so glad I was finished and he was “off duty”.   No rabbit got me this day! He ran and jumped around.  I loved him for being so loyal, all over again.

Tomorrow is Monday and that changes everything.   I will drive past pasture and field, through the woods and into the small town, where I work.  . .and at the end of the day,  I will go back to the place I call home-an old house in the country, where rabbits run wild  and an apple tree blooms out of season.  

36 thoughts on “Where Rabbits Run Wild

  1. Such a lovely post — but I have to ask: what does it mean to fry cornbread? I’ve always baked cornbread, either in a pan or an iron skillet, but I’ve never fried it. Inquiring minds want to know!

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  2. Another moving post! Now I’m craving cornbread 😊 it’s been stormy up here in the Pacific Northwest. The winds shook the leaves from the trees, but sun is in the forecast and I’ll be mowing the yard later this week. Wishing you a happy week ahead ❤️

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  3. I saw a few honeysuckle blooms here a few weeks ago. They used to get a second wind on Long Island, too. I was going to ask about fried cornbread, having never heard of it before. It sounds wonderful. I could make a small batch for the two of us instead of a loaf that is way too big.

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  4. I am glad shoreacres asked about the frying cornbread because I was also curious about that!
    I could almost smell the grass as you talked about mowing. The grass is lush here also due to the 5 inches of rain we had earlier this month. Now it is just raining leaves every time the breeze blows…..that is pretty in it’s way too!
    I tend to burn the grilled cheese sandwiches if I don’t stand and watch them intently. It seems like I plan to take a minute to do something and when I get back it has been 10 minutes and the sandwiches have turned into “burnt offering” (as my husband calls it.)
    Hope your weekend was a great one Michele.

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  5. Ma’am
    Don’t please think that I haven’t read your posts as I am not commenting.Most of the time its because I am savoring your every word, so there is really nothing much to write. No one can match you with words.
    Glad you enjoy the rabbit patch as much as we all do. There have been times when I thought you wanted to get rid of it.
    Susie

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      1. awwh-rest assured I will just go from one rabbit patch to another-a smaller version which hopefully will not be quite as demanding. The “rabbit patch way’ will not be abandoned and I think that is the beauty. You are too sweet. I feel your compassion-and that is so touching. God has His plan, so we will see what that is and when. thank you my dear Susieshy! love Michele

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  6. Is there such a thing as cornmeal pancake? The way you fried it seems like pancake. I’m glad you had a nice Sunday and your cooking time is your writing time, as my gardening time is my writing time also. It brings back memories of the old days.
    I hope you have a good Monday to start a good week. Nice post that you have, Michele!

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  7. Love your writing as usual, makes me picture you, your family, and your home so vividly. ❤ Wish we had rabbits. Too many predators around here I think… Snakes, hawks, foxes, and coyotes too, not to mention an occasional bobcat, though I haven't seen either of the last two on our property. Fried cornbread is the only way I like it, unless it's corny-cornbread. Did you ever eat Grandma Warren's corny-corn bread? It is pretty yummy but probably because it is so full of yummy butter, sour cream and corn. 🙂 Bri and I were walking and enjoying some autumn wild flowers the other day and also happened upon some honeysuckles. She reported that they were delicious! 🙂 Loving these mild days and beautiful sunsets. Take care my sweet cousin and have a good week at work. P.S. I know a young boy at my work who would be on cloud nine for the chance to have one violin lesson.

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    1. I love hearing from you. I remember Grandmamas’ cornbread. This is a beautiful season. I am trying to get to Eliz city-one day-hmm. . . . to the violin lesson? I would like to help-please tell me more. I love you!!!

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  8. Dearest Rabbit,
    You did it again. Your words picked me up and carried me along side you as you wrote.
    I smelt the corn bread, and laughed at hearing Jamie saying you’d “fiddle, while Rome burned. ”. Then felt the sorrow of losing him at such a young age.

    I love you to the moon and back, Rabbit. Plus tax.
    Thank you for being you. For there is no better person for the job.
    Sending you my love ~ Cobs. xxx

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  9. Dearest Michele, your “energy” always always lifts me up. I LOVE coming here! I know all about getting so involved in something that I totally forget what is around me. I’ve had a few “burned” incidents myself. LOL I have Roses growing right now which I just cannot take my eyes off of. Our grass is still green yet just it seems overnight, our Maples’s leaves turned yellow from green. Within days those trees will be bare. How strange because it used to be weeks for these trees to change slowly. I had a talk with hubby the other day on how it seems our weather is changing so please do NOT put my bike away too early. He grumbled of course that he didn’t want to be caught with his pants down, so to speak, but I pointed out for the past three years our weather has remained so warm right up until November. I LOVE riding my bike. And as for knowing your land … I too relate to that because I am the one who put every single garden in and planted every tree, bush, plant and flower. I know my gardens blindfolded and it is so comforting to feel the “Love” I receive from them. I am drinking the colors and the flowers up greedily for I know soon I will see snow something that does not thrill me too much. I may even go for another walk today for the sun is shining and the smell of Autumn is so prevalent in the air. I’ve been told beginning this weekend a cold front is moving in along with rain. There go the leaves. May you have a glorious day today!!! Love, Amy 🤗

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  10. How we grow attached to our lands…is it an American thing?
    Is it the comfort of familiarity, the history we share together, the memories lived while in this place?
    We’ve just passed the 32nd anniversary of acquiring Holiday House.
    Daughter Kerry lived every birthday ’til 21 in this house.
    Ryan and Kerry started and finished school here, the bus stopping at out front for 13 years.
    Five kids through high school in this house.
    Returning to this house from funerals we shan’t enumerate.
    See that 60-foot Cottonwood? It was a stick the length of my arm when I planted it.
    Next year, I will need to fell a tree I planted, watched mature and age.
    It has “lapped me” in the circle of life.
    Built in 1906, the house has “coffin doors” at the front entrance.
    Double doors that swing open wide enough for a coffin and pall bearers.
    I can only hope to remain here long enough to make use of them for their intended purpose.

    Seek peace,

    Paz

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  11. This sentence is filled with such truth: ” A few blossomed here and there- and I felt young again.” Smells, more than anything, carry me back to my childhood and fill me with joy. Your last sentence also touched my heart. It is such a beautiful description of a beloved place.

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