I have done a good deal of “traveling” this summer . . .but have only left the rabbitpatch a half dozen times or so. I spent the last five days in Elizabeth City. How good to have a leisure visit with my beloved daughter and grandchildren. I feel quite indulged to have such a privilege. I see first hand, how the girls “find their day” , how they play, what things they celebrate . . . in short, “who they are.” I treasure the moments, thoroughly.
Little Brynn, at two, has a lot pf expressions as she talks It is adorable, just to see. She has the face of a cherub. any way. She gave me several lectures about healthy food and the value of brushing teeth. Brynn can carry a tune like a little songbird, which delights me and she knows what a rose is and also a crepe myrtle. She stands in her mothers’ shadow, most of the time.
Lyla is quite self sufficient and quite organized. She continues to have a great sense of compassion and therefore is tender hearted. Lyla starts school this year. She is as ready as can be, academically -but , I am not so ready. Of course, I cried when she lost her first tooth. Childhood is just not long enough to suit me.
The summer here, has been a bit cooler, than in other years, but that week, was a hot one. The air was about sultry in the evenings. The mimosa tree took full advantage of the conditions, and sweetened the air generously. The mimosa tree is quite a common sight in the south. Every patch of wood and field is host to the mimosa. I have never known any one to plant them, many yards have a mimosa. If you have one, you are bound to have two, as the mimosa springs up freely and without a bit of reservation. It may be said, that the mimosa trees are “a dime a dozen”, so to me they are a miraculous bargain. The same can be said of fire flies . . .and stars.
The rest of my “traveling” has occurred right here on the humble soil of the rabbitpatch territory. There is a routine -I gather fallen branches which takes several strolls. I take account of the grapevines, and the fruit trees. I cut the wicked thorned vines and look for poison vines-and I am thinking the whole while. I have made good progress on this remnant of a farm. Everything is tidy, so there has been some profit in my meandering.
Aside from that, I remain at a “crossroads”, of sorts. I came to this place a few months ago and still, I stand dazed, almost rooted to the same spot. If “patience is a virtue”, I at least, have accomplished that. I liken the situation to receiving some announcement of upheaval with a “no action required on your part” included in the closing salutation. Certainly, there is some action on my part-I am filing for social security and I am putting the house on the market-but in both cases, the process is slow and the results of either are vague. . .So, I stand . I have stood so long, the place is starting to feel familiar-not as strange as it used to be. The thickness of “this fog”, still obscures my vision. . .but fog being mysterious . .also , creates a heightened sense of awareness. My mind went down a hundred “rabbit holes” and I “backtracked” quite a bit. I stumbled from one circle to another, never leaving the spot, I fell in to. . .and that is how I ended up with a very tidy rabbitpatch!
Sometimes . . .I act like Peter , “I do not know Him” and sometimes I am like Thomas, “Show me”. This confession shames me, but one must know the truth, to be set free. I do not like life altering circumstances that seem to shift like sand in a whirlwind. I confess that too. Then again, it is those very kind of circumstances that teach the greatest lessons. I chide myself for saying it again, so consider this my own personal necessity to “second” the subject.
My maternal grandmother, used to say “you can laugh about it or cry.” as she was snapping beans,not even looking up -and most especially when neither she nor I could fix something. How pert that sounded in my youth! How wise it sounds now.
Meanwhile, the peach trees hang full of gold, and the the grape vines and the pear are full of jade. Apples are scarce, so the squirrels are making haste to eat them extra green. The black eyed susans are in full bloom and almost glow. These things remind me, that as it is written . . .“To everything, there is a season.”