From the Rabbitpatch on Bonnet Street


Niece Hayley was married last weekend on a beautiful day.  The air was not so sultry that day and a slight  scent of pine was present.  The sun shone brightly as if to say “Best Wishes!”.  Hayley and husband Carson are now out west on their honeymoon.
The closing for the rosewood cottage, was on the Friday, before the wedding.  Everything went smoothly and thank Goodness, for the days before were harrowing, with “urgent” details.  Cousin Chris, spent a day doing some repairs one day, that I was unaware of til the last minute.  He abandoned his own agenda to help me in a hurry.
Since the closing, I have been painting.  It all started, when I painted the dining room.  It turned out lovely and so the large hallway was gloomier than ever.  I got half of that painted and stopped because my bedroom was so shabby, I couldn’t bear it.  When I was too weak to climb any longer, I stopped that too.  Hopefully, I will complete the hall and the bedroom, this weekend.
I also planted two heirloom roses, that I purchased for two dollars each, on the clearance aisle at a nursery.  I knew there was hope for them and I wasn’t wrong, for they have each bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and not long after they came home.
 With work and housekeeping, I have stayed busy.  I realised that time was racing by me . . my life needed some balance.  I intentionally started seeking  beauty, in every spare moment allowed.  I soon found out, that finding something beautiful, was a delightful task and did not require a struggle.  Anytime, I have  desired to put things in perspective, nature has always provided the means to do so.  Somehow, things get sorted out, in the natural world and in a natural way.
Sunlight falls where it can, in the woods.  Birds and squirrels work without comparing their gains to other birds and squirrels.  Trees are stalwart members of the natural world, providing protection, substance and residents, and yet they never boast.  Overhead, the canopy, that we call the sky,  treats all without favoritism, without prejudices, and without malice, though everything  that has ever happened . . has been witnessed by the sky.  It is impossible to declare, as man likes to do, any sort of system that rates worthiness in nature, for all has a place of significant value that is dependent on one another and is relied on, as well.  After all it is the soil that grows a mighty oak.
I thought about such things as I walked from one class to another and as I made my way to and from the car.    How I love wild places!   . . .and it does me good to bind myself tightly to them.  My spirit is just too uncivilized to stray for long whiles.
School was cancelled due to the hurricane, we call Ian.  So far, it is breezy and raining at the rosewood cottage. So far, no roof leaks nor flooding on Bonnet Street-and the new kitchen light is shining merrily.
Time would tell, if these conditions lasted or not.  I made soup and meanwhile, took everything out of my closet!  The cozy closet (another word for “small”) had only been scrubbed as after all, I was only staying a few months.   . . I still laugh at that- but anyway, I wanted it painted.  The lightest shade of green suited me and since the bedroom is mostly white, I could indulge in violets that could clamber as they pleased, in the dark, amongst my wardrobe.
This venture took a long time.  When finally, I could put my things back in place, the breeze had ceased and the rain had too.
And now, it is Sunday.
Today, Mama is coming for a Sunday dinner.   I have hardly cooked, since I bought the rosewood cottage.  I have been restoring and always painting.  I have also taken an additional role at school, which requires a much earlier start.  In light of this,  little time  is left for cooking and writing-and reading .   . .all things that I love.  Today, I aim to mend my ways!   We are having baked chicken and creamed potatoes, which we will smother in gravy, string beans, corn salad (a very simple and old recipe) and bread pudding for the dessert.  . .and I am as happy as any lark, ever dared to be.