Mahogany Leaves


It did not matter one iota, that the time changed.  Somehow, I managed to awaken at my usual hour.  The wind was up early too.   As the crescent moon faded, I saw  there were more leaves in the yard, and felt sure, many of them would have turned all sorts of colors . . like ruby or amber.  No doubt some would have been delightful shades of orange, but it was not their destiny .  Along with the leaves,  there were small branches littering the territory.  I sat at the “morning table” under a warm blanket, with my coffee while Cash, my boxer and Christopher Robin, my cat, slept unhindered by a clock  -or housekeeping.

Those who read the “rabbitpatch diary”  regularly, know I am not a fan of changing the clocks.  I complain about  it every spring.  Clocks do not create more day light nor night time.  It is as simple as that.  Nature has its’ own rhythm, and it has always worked out fine.  I do not mind, that nights get longer this time of year, for the stars come out when they please, anyway – and no one is going to convince the moon nor  the sun to change their ways, no matter what we call the hour.  If it were up to me, everyone would be home by dark, “safe and sound”, anyway, for I am that old now.



I was out on the porch   by the time the sun had climbed over the pines.  I sent more spiders packing and swept wayward leaves back to the earth.  I swept the sidewalk and the steps til finally, the broom was in shambles.  I have had that broom for years and I chided myself for being reluctant to toss it.  It had originally been the house broom, then it became the porch and barn, broom.  I have certainly got my moneys’ worth out of it -and it is just an old broom.  How odd to be  sentimental over a broom, I thought.  Then I remembered that my grandmother was the same way over her broom -and my daddy has a garden hoe, that he used as a child!  So, I decided we are just an “odd lot”, altogether.  

When the porch was in order, I began picking up branches from the yard. One still, dry evening, we will burn the garden.  Kyle loves this ritual and so I hope to do it when he can come.  Kyle has taken up residence with a friend, that lives closer to his work. He calls everyday and never fails to ask, what we are having for supper.


I had several piles of branches, collected,  and so I  decided to go  inside to clean the laundry room.  It stays orderly, but it was dusty.  There was a nightmare behind the dryer.  There were cobwebs and thick dust and lint.  I cleaned the windowsills and put a fresh coat of paint on the cabinet. 

We did not have a Sunday dinner.  Mama and Daddy couldn’t come, so Christian and I had more soup from the day before.  I plan to make up for it on Tuesday.  Mama has an appointment and a meeting, so I will cook at her house, so she can eat in between the two -and I will  spend the night there.  Brant and Christian are coming, after they finish some work at the rabbitpatch.  Tuesday will be an occasion.


On Monday, I awakened to the sound of a steady , morning rain falling.  It was still dark, and so these were the perfect conditions, to linger under my favorite blanket. Most days, I spring out of bed, but on rainy mornings, I like to lay a while and listen to the rhythm of the watery lullaby.  . .for that is exactly what it sounds like to me. Of course, I could not take a bit of liberty, this day, for it was Monday, after all.

Cash, my dog was up and prancing about.  This acts on me better than any alarm clock, for I fear the worst should I waste a moment.  We went to the door at a good pace, with him whining in sheer agony.  I opened the door to the wet morning . Cash stood there like a statue for a few seconds and then sauntered back to his bed.  Apparently, the crisis had been averted, at the sight of the rain.  I made coffee and sat by the “morning table” to gather my thoughts”.


I noticed that the sycamores were a solid mass of a warm russet color.  It is November certainly, though I can scarce comprehend how.  There were more leaves in the yard today, than there were yesterday.  The rain tapped on the leaves, as it fell.  Ever so often a huge acorn would make a loud thud on the roof.  This was a day in Autumn- the kind of day, I am familiar with, in months like November – the kind of day that I love, for the world is lovely when a silver rain falls, and mahogany leaves  fall tenderly to the earth.


29 thoughts on “Mahogany Leaves

  1. Brooms…They don’t make them like they used to. My granddad always reminded me not to take a broom to the new house. The old broom must stay with the old house. Don’t know why …he just thought it was a given not to take the broom with you. I don’t mind the newer design for brooms for the inside but an outside broom should be made of better stuff than they are today. Seem all are cutting corners.

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    1. This was a good broom-had it forever and I bet you can not even find one now! It fit my hand after all those years. The new ones are not the same Do not even last long enough for me to get attached to! ha! thank you special one! love Michele

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  2. Like so many of man’s inventions, the time change is much ado about nothing. I think it’s silly and wonder how these practices become so entrenched? Your Rabbit Patch sounds lovely in November as in every other month of the year. Your words make the ordinary sound so magical!
    Warm Regards my friend xox

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    1. The time thing has always been odd to me- I could not understand the logic-less electricity use for employers? not at all true-oh well! There is a lot of lovely in this world -everywhere -and magic too-may you have both! thank you my traveling friend-love Michele

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  3. I have taken on a new job and life has become so hectic, today was the first day off in a long time, reading this post leisurely with my morning cuppa makes more relaxed and calm. Thank you Michele

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  4. Our Oak trees around here still have their russet canopy but other then that, we have bare. I like you am not a fan of time or the time change and for Pete’s sake, just leave well enough alone already. I mean what is the point anyways? Rain and high winds stripped our trees of their glorious foliage so that when I could step out between the raindrops I clicked as fast as I possibly could. I LOVE the images you paint with your words, Michele. I always come away from your posts with a soft feeling in my Soul and with a deep sigh, smile. Bless you and thank you! 💖

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  5. We too, here in the UK, have had ‘Daylights Saving’ – and our clocks have gone back an hour. The mornings are brighter, but the days seem shorter because it gets dark so early.

    Like you, I’ve never seen the sense of it all. Nature marches to it’s own beat. It has no notion of time or clocks, so why we big, intelligent humans (or at least those ‘in charge’ make us) change all the clocks in the house (and car) just isn’t sensible. Nature will do what it does, when it’s supposed to do it. As for it being something that they did during war years in order to save gas/electricity/time or give farmers more daylight hours to farm in … well, somehow that just doesn’t ‘sit’ right with me either.

    [picks up soap-box and shuts up!]

    A truly beautiful post Rabbit, and dear Cash … who might be twisting a knot in his bladder and desperate to go out for a wee …. well I have a little dog here who does that very thing – so I understand Cash’s dilemma. However, I feel for you – because if Cash is anything like old Belle here, then he’ll get you to open that door a hundred times before he simply can’t hold it any longer! Bless their wonderful hearts. Gotta love ’em. 😀

    Love you dearly Rabbit. More than you’ll ever know.
    Thank you for making me smile just before I pop off to bed.
    Heaps of love ~ Cobs. xxx

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