Lylas’ snowman has been around so long, he should have had a name.  It was -6 degrees F this morning at the early service.  I was gathering wood and it seemed like the air would shatter, if I spoke a word.  I was in a silent territory-in that place between night and morning.  Thankfully, I had a full bed of embers to work with and so it did not take long, before a cheerful fire was burning in the wood heater.  

I went straight a way to building a second fire in the den-and made coffee.  I was glad, that the water in the bathroom was still running. I had worried I would be melting snow, for coffee.  The weatherman confirmed another record for the low temps, but also gave a hopeful forecast for tomorrow.  We are expected to reach 50 degrees by tomorrow  afternoon.

In light of this, I have done a great deal of self reflection, today.  I thought about my quest for living simply and carefully.  Retirement, Lord willing, is still a few years away-and I will need to continue to work for as long as I am able.  But, I thought at first, I should start practicing a more frugal lifestyle, now.  My first function, was to truly define what really mattered to me.  I decluttered down to bare essentials, which I defined as things I used or really loved.  It took several weeks in July to accomplish this.  I have not regretted this course of action and realised I actually felt relief, when it was all said and done.  I have never been wasteful, by nature, but  then , a winter storm comes along, and I have four days to consider my habits.  There is room for improvement.    I do know, that I want to continue doing what I am, because it feels right.  I would rather spend an afternoon, teaching  Lyla the names of flowers than working for a new pair of shoes.  I want to feed the planet, to contribute-and not live selfishly.   Jenny always says “that money should not be our driving force”  and I am in agreement. Having said that, I must still pay my bills.  What a fine line to walk!- and besides that, very few things have ever worked out as I thought they would, anyway.  This is another fine line . . .Some people would deem it irresponsible not to plan, after all.  So four days was not enough time to come to any grand conclusions.  I decided to make cheese straws.

I do not know how these delightful little biscuits ever went “out of style”.  They used to be served at every bridal and baby shower.  They were always home made, as were the little sandwiches and even  the mints. The fare was always the same for such occasions. I think when Lyla is a bit older, I will have a tea party for her with a table laden with such things and tiny cake squares too.   Jennys’ neighbor, Miss Thelma reminded me of the little biscuits, on one of her recollections about her best friend of fifty years, Edith.  She and Miss Thelma ate cheese straws and drank tea,on the Christmas break, every year.  You can believe I made some for her this year, in memory of Miss Edith.  Today was a good day to make them again I thought-and thank Goodness,  it did not require the “wisdom of Solomon”, to do so.

The afternoon warmed to thirty degrees and that seemed much more reasonable.  I am familiar with thirty degrees.  School is closed again tomorrow, due to the roads, which are still  not cleared.  I am quite excited about the prospect of water in the kitchen and the laundry room.  

There were a few times, I was weary from the cold and fretted about living in such a big , old house, these past few days.  Mama called several times a day and would listen, as only a mother will.  At some point, I rallied and reminded myself,  that, all was not lost, just because of a winter storm.  It really was just another “hole in the floor”, of sorts.  How could I allow a bit of  inconvenience  to tarnish my blessed life? 

 I will watch the sunset tonight,  and do my best to remember the way the light falls in colorful splashes, on an evening in winter-when the fields are covered in snow. . .and I will be glad, to see such glory.

 

The snow at the rabbit patch, lingers and will for at least a few days more.  Like everywhere else, it is cold here.  This is not the “holiday”, as those of the past.  The affair of a snow, is usually a short lived one, here. We have a day of snow which promptly melts within a day or so.  We have a day off, and there is just enough hours of it, for children to toss snowballs or build a snowman-and have snow cream. The next day, we all go along our merry way  for it is back to work and school.  This  time, is no ordinary holiday. . .and I am now using the term “holiday” loosely. The country landscape is full of sparkle and shine.  . .but we are not building snowmen .  The wind makes it unbearable and especially without the proper attire.

  The wood heater was cold, this morning.  I needed to clean out the ashes, which I dreaded.   Gathering wood on this morning, was not for the faint of heart.  It was less than 20 degrees when I went out, and that does not include the factor of wind. I was thankful that the snow was soft and not icy. You can believe that I collected the wood in record time , by sheer will.  Once, I had a fire going, I removed my boots and gloves, neither waterproof, to dry.  I had to check the water pump as I had awaken with a picture that flashed in my mind, of the light in the pump house.  The light provides enough heat to keep the motor from freezing.  It is of great importance and the task could not be neglected.  I am old enough now, that I do not discount “flashing pictures” and so I prepared to go back out, with almost dry boots, and slightly scorched gloves.  It was a good thing, for as  it turns out -the light was out. 

Tomorrow, the highest we can expect is eleven degrees.  I have never experienced such low temperatures for an extended period of time.   I remember one year, the temperature on Christmas eve, dropped to zero.  The children got a pony that year.  I remember a year that February was  cold every day.  Another time, a few years back, we had a day or two of air cold enough to freeze pipes, so we have had “cold spells”,  but I do not ever remember such conditions to tarry, as these do.  I had no idea, as I waited with such joyful anticipation for snow, that it would come to this.

 Saturday, the “coldest evening of this year  . . .or any year, thus far”

I woke before the early service.  The farmhouse was so cold, you could see your breath.  The heater, by my bed was off.  It was a new heater and so I read the service manual and read that the filter had to be cleaned.  While I worked, I listened to the news which confirmed my suspicion that this was the coldest, it has ever been at the rabbit patch.  It will be Monday, before it starts to thaw and I have no idea what the aftermath will look like.  Currently, the only source of water is in the bathroom.  

It was ten am, before I had the heater up and running-and a good fire in the wood heater.  I am so thankful, we have kept power.  To improve my spirit, I remembered the moonlight casting its’ glow on the snow.  How beautiful to see snow in moonlight.  I thought of children who had never seen snow-and those children that had only vague memories, to rely on.  I was glad for warm socks and soft blankets.  The kitchen is well stocked -and so is the pantry.   . .and this is a temporary condition, after all.   I also watched a documentary about a person injured on a hike and so was forced to spend several days in frigid weather.  That cured me of any gloom , I might have been conjuring up.

Tonight, is forecasted to be another record breaker-colder than last night.  It is early evening, and I am already in the warmest attire I have and under several blankets.   Cash and Christopher Robin are tucked in, too.  All of Farm Life is silent.  It has been for days.  Only a handful of vehicles have braved the elements and traveled the still hidden road. 

I suppose, we will all talk about this winter storm for years to come.  We will remember the unfamiliar temperatures and frozen water lines.  . .and I will remember those things too-but I will also remember the color of snow at sunset. . .and the shine of it, in early morning light.  I want to remember collecting wood in the stark, still winter night .   . . and eating snow cream.  I must not forget, to love the coldest evening of the year, too.

 

   

 

On the first day of the brand new year, I missed the early service.  By the time I woke, the sun was up and shining.  It was a bitter cold morning, but the wind that “cut to the bone” wasn’t nearly as fierce as it had been, the last few days.  This was not the day to walk by the laughing river.  Besides, even without a kitchen, we were planning a traditional “new years’ day” ,  meal.

Jenny and I concocted a plan using all sorts of kitchen contraptions to prepare the traditional fare.  Black-eyed peas simmered in a crock pot while a pork roast, smothered with potatoes, carrots, turnips and onions roasted in an electric roaster.  Collards are the traditional green served on the first day of the year-but fresh ones just weren’t possible.  We decided on frozen and agreed we could use an electric skillet to warm them and could season them, as we saw fit.  Though it was a feasible plan, there wasn’t a single bag to be bought in the grocery, and so  canned was our only option.  I bought several cans and hoped for the best.   

With the temperature barely twenty degrees, we stayed in the house all day.  Miss Claudia (Wills’ mom) was coming, so at last, Lyla was changed into  warm and very cute  attire, in the late afternoon. The dining room, where everything was plugged in, smelled like the new years’ day meal, but all the hope I had in the canned collards, was lost, when I tried them.  They were awful and so I intended to warn the others.

Thankfully, the peas were just right and the roast with its company of vegetables was as good as any I have ever cooked. Miss Claudia is not a fan of collards and so she spared herself the burden of trying them. She did compliment everything else, which is  one reason I enjoy cooking for her.  Will and Jenny agreed with me on the poor quality of the greens, meant to bring prosperity.  We had to hope a few bites went a long way, if our financial success in the new year, depended on the amount of collards, we consumed.

By, eight o”clock, Miss Claudia was safely home, and all traces of a gathering were -as Lyla says about the Christmas tree, “lost”.  Snow is in the forecast, for several days, starting on Wednesday.   Before, I went to sleep, I hoped there wasn’t anyone without shelter, anywhere, this night.

The Second Day of the Year

I did see the early service, this day.  It was cold again.  I can not complain, as I was warm, inside Will and Jennys’ home.  Lyla woke up early and Jenny woke up with a kink in her neck.  Will had to go back to work.  Today, was the day for me to return to the rabbit patch.  Christian had “held the fort down” on his own throughout the the brutal weather.  The laundry room had frozen water lines-and Christopher Robin, the sweet gray cat, had managed to hurt his leg.  I start work tomorrow, and with snow in the forecast, I needed to make sure the farmhouse kitchen was well stocked.  Roads are not cleared in the countryside of a small, southern town.  Farmers take mercy on us, and will clear the roads, the first chance they get.  The truth is, under such conditions, the south shuts down, hence the chaos at the groceries.  We are also liable to lose power.  I certainly hope that does not happen.  The rabbit patch, does not have water, in that case.

Tonight, I saw the evening news and was quite shocked at  the national weather reports.  I can not fathom such circumstances as  fountains frozen in the act of cascading and snow piled over cars.  Here, in the south, we consider the event of snow, a winter holiday, of sorts, that occurs as often as a “blue moon”.

The drive home was sunny and bright. All three rivers I cross, were tinged with ice.  I  had dreaded the stop at the grocery, but I needn’t have, as it was just a bit more busy than usual.  I bought the ingredients for snow cream, just in case it really did snow.  When I was growing up, we were never allowed to make snow cream on the first snow, which greatly limited the chances of making any at all.  The first snow, “cleaned the air”, and so was not considered sanitary.  I am “throwing caution to the wind” and making a batch in spite of  that.

 I was glad to see Christian.  Kyle came in about an hour after  I arrived. Christopher Robin was on the mend , though the laundry room would not give a drop of water up.  I went straight a way to cooking.  I made several things that could be warmed in a pot on the wood heater, if need be.

  School is dismissed early tomorrow in lieu of the pending snow.   This will be a good time to read beautiful words and try to make cookies, as I have not attempted that since my last batch, which were barely edible.  I have bird seed.  Snow is the only event, that the country birds will visit my feeders.  If I make snow lanterns, I will try to post about that- and there is always the “snow cream”, though I have been warned about that, for generations.  I will at least wait til “the woods are filled with snow”  and the branches of the old oaks, around the farmhouse are laden, before I dare to “catch a bit of snow”.   Snow just changes everything. 

I attended the early service in Elizabeth City, on Saturday.  I had a lot of company, for it to be such a cold winter morning.  I was greeted by a flock of redbirds.  They were a quiet lot, but how pretty they looked in the dull light of morning.  There were also robins.  A small flock of blackbirds, filled up a tree.  The blackbirds acted as a choir and sang through out the gathering.  A squirrel dashed through the yard screeching as he went.  Only, the trees and I were silent, this morning.

It has been cold, for a southern winter, since Christmas, and the forecast is that it will remain so for another week.  This kind of cold will make pipes freeze and you hope they do not burst.  I brought Jenny some olive oil yesterday, and it was frozen, as it had been in a parcel  packed,  in an unheated room, at the rabbit patch. I have watched the news,all of twenty minutes, this last week, but I did see that a bitter cold was plaguing the mid west and the north, too.  What fortitude, folks must have to endure such conditions.

Jenny  had a mission today.  She wanted all signs of Christmas, packed away.  I kept Lyla occupied, while Jenny and Will worked diligently to restore order.  I cleaned the nursery and packed away toys Lyla had outgrown, to make room for new.  . .even so, Jenny will limit the amount of new toys that go in to the collection.  Jenny is a sensible mom, and I am quite proud of that.  She insists that Lyla spend an ample amount of time, outside and that the nursery is not cluttered with too many toys.

By late morning, the nursery, was strewn and just walking through was difficult-  the truth was, you  were likely to step on a block or teacup.  Will picked Miss Claudia, (his mom) up and it was nice to be in good company, as I sorted through Lylas’  little kitchen  and her drawing desk.  

By mid afternoon, much had been accomplished.  Lyla was quite disappointed that the Christmas tree had left “without a trace”, and actually cried.  I fear she may be as sentimental as I am, for I miss Christmas, too.

I gave Lyla, “The Complete Peter Rabbit”, which contains all of Beatrix Potters’ works, including her lesser known, nursery rhymes.  Of course, I read “The Tale of Peter Rabbit”, to Lyla,  the first chance, I got.   Lyla retold the story with great animation.  She was quite saddened that Peter lost his shoes and jacket- and she did not “take a shine” to Mr. McGregor, at all. 

New Years’ Eve

The last day of the year dawned cold and bright.  I did not tarry long at the morning service, as there was a light, but chilling wind, blowing steadily- and without mercy. The same crowd attended, as yesterday, and in addition, a very blue jay.  There seemed to be a restlessness amongst them and I wondered if they knew something, I didn’t.  Nature is the truest indicator of  weather, that I know of.

Jenny and Lyla were up, not long after me. With the house now restored to its’ former glory, today, held less obligations. The kitchen  is still not  completed and so, we settled for toast and coffee, as our “breakfast of champions”. 

Today, most folks will take more than a “second look” at their life. Countless folks will vow to do all sorts of things.  The older I get, the more my goals change in content.  This year, I hope to give more generously, in whatever service presents itself.  I hope to have pure intentions that stem from a clean heart.  Oh, that I might be merciful, by habit- and grateful too.  May I be honest enough to live my own truth, for our own truth is a gift, pure and simple, designed specifically for us, I think.  I want fear to have less authority in my life.   I am not referring to a fear of things like uncontrolled fire or dangerous speed . . in those cases fear protects us.  Instead, I hope to be void of the  fear that makes  us cease to follow our intuition , limits our expectations and therefore,  hinders our faith.  I want to love more deeply and practice compassion, until it is  second nature-and I also wish to live with the earth and not against it. 

 I will probably say these same things next year, and  mean them as much as I do today -and as much as I did last year.  It bears repeating-and often.  A new year beckons and with it the chance  to understand more and to do better.  

Happy New Year from the Rabbit Patch!  love, Michele

 

 

 

 The Wednesday After Christmas

It was snowing at the early service, this morning.  It did not last long, and only could be considered a dusting, but the chance to watch it fall, was not short on beauty.  Snow is so very rare here, in the south, that we must be content with even the most brief episodes of it.  The winter trees were especially pretty, with snow on their branches.  By, ten am, the snow had turned to sleet, which is a messy affair.  Cash and Christopher Robin did not linger when they went out.  Cash did run around the yard and seemed to enjoy it for a moment.  Christopher Robin was not the least impressed and seemed disgusted altogether.  

Christmas passed and left behind some beautiful memories.  One of my favorites, was playing music with Brant and Christian.  Lyla had a small trashcan, we converted to a drum – and she  almost stole the show. 

 We always go to my parents on Christmas night for a light meal and to exchange gifts.  I mixed up some name tags, and Mama opened a sketch pad and crayons, meant for Lyla.  Daddy  opened earrings.    Mama was as scared of the sketch pad, as Daddy was of the earrings, so we all got a laugh.  The weather changed from mild to a cold, known only to winter, as we dined on our familiar Christmas fare .  It was quite a shock to walk out from the warm house, full of chatter,  into a frigid, still,  “Silent Night”.

Everyone went home yesterday, and in their absence, the rabbit patch seemed especially quiet and almost somber.  I kept myself busy by taking down wreaths and removing the precious ornaments from the tree.  I did not put away the china, for true to its’ name, “Winter Greetings”-it is perfectly appropriate for use til February.  The pattern is full of ribbons and redbirds and this year, I was given two new pieces.   I wrapped the remnants of a pound cake and the last bit of gingerbread.  I put a new pot in the cupboard and took one out, as I adhered to my  own rule made, during the “cleansing” in July.  

 I took my sweet time restoring order.   Every year, I tend to mope about for a while, when everyone goes home.  For years, I out and out cried, the minute they pulled out of the drive.  I would wave cheerfully and blow kisses . . and then go in and cry aloud.   Now, though, I miss them awfully bad, I do not resort to such drastic measures.  It took me a long time to make peace with this part of my journey, but thankfully, and at last, I have. 

Mostly, the Christmas closet is once again the “keeper of all things Christmas”.  I did leave a snowman here and there, but the Christmas books are back on the shelf.  Tomorrow, I hope to finish painting the living room.

Thursday

A bright and cold morning has dawned.  It does not feel like a Thursday-it does not feel like any day in particular.  It just seems like some day, after Christmas. The sky is mostly clear and  is a gentle shade of blue.  There are a few streaks of thin stratus clouds.  The air is still as it has ever been .  It is also quiet.  . .so am I.  I can not feel hurried under such conditions. 

I have a few tasks to complete-and the living room is one of them.  Tomorrow, I leave for Elizabeth City, and so I must pack for that. (in my new luggage)  I ought to cook things to take with me, also, as Jennys’ kitchen is still being remodeled. 

Of course, the beginning of a new year is at hand.  I have never been one to celebrate the new year with great fanfare.  I celebrate it quietly, as the event puts me in a reflective mood.  I do not make specific, lofty resolutions, as some do, as I lack the fortitude to carry them out.   I will simply remind myself, of what really matters to me, what I truly value and set out to make those things priorities.  It is a long and thorough process -and does not require fancy clothes or a loud party.  It is mostly between me and God.  In some way, to me every day is the start of a new year.   I am not against parties to celebrate a new year or fireworks-but, instead, think we should all act as we are inspired to do so.  What a shame  it would be, if every one lit a candle, as I do,  and there were no displays of fireworks, to unite  the world, in celebration.

For now, I will be glad for this day and its’ details.  I love ordinary days, when the sun shines on the rabbit patch,- and Christopher Robin and Cash doze in the light of sunbeams, by the “morning table”.  This day is worth celebrating, too.

 

 

 

 

Christmas eve morning is here . . and with it rain.  I woke to the sound of rain and it was lovely.  I wished it were snow. ( Just a light friendly snow that would not hinder anyones’ progress)  None the less, it is the magical eve of Christmas, and rain will suit me fine.  I couldn’t complain today, if I wanted to, for I especially love Christmas eve.   Besides, the holiday lights still twinkle, and the kitchen smells like Christmas fare.  The table, will be adorned with the Christmas china, and most importantly-my loved ones will gather around it.  

When the rain breaks, I will gather pine-enough that you smell it when walking in.  Paired with the apples and oranges, the smell of Christmas will be prevalent.  My oldest sons, Brant and Tres will drive in from Wilmington today-and Mama and Daddy will join us for a Christmas eve supper.  I am already cooking and clean linens are on the beds.  I have a lot of floors to scrub, that will immediately be tracked with dirt and mud, when everyone comes in.  The dogs will be bathed at the last moment and candles will be lit-especially the one in the “welcome home” lantern at the back door.  The boys will not have wrapped a single present and so I am always on alert to begin that task in the late hours.  

I did not get back to the rabbit patch, til well after dark. yesterday.  I drove back in muted light, which was a far cry better than the drive going, in the rain.  I had to stop by the grocery store, and there in lies the culprit of my late arrival, home.  To complicate matters, I was undecided about what dishes to bring to the gathering on Christmas night, at the home of my parents.  It must have shown, as a young man asked if he could help me.  I decided to make “Aunt Agnes’ apple salad” and the cheddar garlic biscuits, my niece, Hayley, loves.  The check out lines were full, more than I have ever seen them int the small town.  When I became the next to check out, the gentleman in front of me, promptly, dropped a gallon of milk which exploded upon impact.  Now, there really is no merit to “crying over spilt milk” and so I became last in the next line, without holding a grudge.  The man that dropped it was full of distress and there was no need to add to it.   

In the Afternoon

What a commotion, there was in the old farmhouse-and it lasted til just past one.  Finally, at long last, the floors were scrubbed and the scent of fresh pine lingered in the air.  Cash had a bath and candles were lit.  What lovely moments, when all is ready and the children due to arrive. 

I lit the “welcome home” lantern and thought, Christmas eve is a lovely time.

 

Dear Readers of the rabbit patch diary,  I can not thank you enough for the gifts of kind and encouraging words, you leave me.  So many times, I am moved to tears at the sight of them.  How generous you all are.  As big as this world is, you all have a way of making it a cozy and friendly place.  Thank you, with all my heart.  Merry, merry Christmas . . . love Michele

 

 

I arrived in Elizabeth City, early in the afternoon, on Wednesday.  It had rained the whole day.  When I crossed the three rivers, it was impossible to see where the rivers ended and the sky started, on the horizon. 

How good it felt to turn in to the familiar Riverside Village, by the laughing river.  It had been close to a fortnight, since  my last visit.  Trees have shed their leaves and now,  front doors are adorned with wreaths.  Windows donned twinkling lights, from the little cottages to the stately manors, making the drive a “merry and bright” occasion.

It was a sweet reunion for me.   Lyla ran to the door saying “Honeybee is back!” We hugged for a long time in silence.  She showed me her Christmas tree, not long after I got there.  Will and Jenny are having their kitchen remodeled and I was eager to see the progress, on that too.  The kitchen is absolutely beautiful, but not yet functional-of course, I brought several meals with me to help out.

 On Thursday, which was “the longest evening of the year”, Lyla and I were able to stroll through the village.  Lyla had some jingle bells and she would ring them at the sight of people, dogs and cats-and say “merry Christmas!”  She missed two people in a row, and so I stopped to ask her why . . .she was fast asleep, clutching her bells.

Will was stopping by his moms’,   Miss Claudia,  in the afternoon, and so I sent her some old fashioned Christmas candies and a holiday towel for the kitchen.  I have a few more small gifts for her, but they could wait, as I was hoping for a visit with her, myself, during my stay.   Jenny and I wrapped presents and how pretty they looked under the tree.  We stopped just before Will came home.  Will had a large gift with him, that he placed around the tree.   . . I found out later, it was for me!  

Miss Claudia sent me a luggage set-I had not had a new one in twenty years!  The one I use now is really, Kyles’.   The set is a lovely shade of turquoise and I am quite thrilled with it.  What a surprise for me and it touched me deeply that Miss Claudia was so generous.

Friday, was the day Jenny and I set aside, to shop.  Both of us had some “loose ends” to tie up.  Our lists were minimal and quite precise.  We got up early and were out and about by shortly after nine.  The expedition was quite successful and we made good time.  By mid afternoon, the gifts were under the tree and there was no sign of our grand production.  

With the kitchen out of commission, we have had to forego such things as baking cookies and constructing gingerbread houses.  I will practice baking cookies after Christmas  Maybe we will start those traditions next year.  (when Lyla is old enough to know not to eat the roof of a gingerbread house)

Christmas evokes memories of traditions and people, too.  Often, traditions are born without intent.  I know I always buy apples and oranges at Christmas-enough that you smell them when you walk in the door, at the rabbit patch.  I do so because, my parents did.  I remember waking to the delightful smell, and knowing Santa had been.  My parents did, because their parents did so.  Traditions, remind us that in an ever changing world, some things do remain the same.  This is of great comfort to me, as there are less and less familiar circumstances now.  

I remember my people at Christmas.  People like Aunt Agnes, who played the piano jauntily-no matter the song.  She played Christmas carols and flashed a smile throughout every one of them.  I remember Aunt Josie- and Pop and Grandma.  I remember the year, that Grandma “ordered” a Christmas tree, instead of finding one in the woods.  It was unheard of and we were quite curious to see it.  We all went over, the day it arrived to see “the aluminum tree”.  What a horrible shock it was for me, to see a silver stick with branches.   The “tree” looked as unreal, as anything I had ever seen-because it was. Grandma said people in Florida had these trees and I reckoned then, that Florida was not an ordinary land.

I remember “Mama Hodges”, my great grandmother.  She handed her great grandchildren an envelope every year,with five dollars inside.  She made pound cakes regularly-and the kitchen always smelled of them.  

I have especially thought about my dads’ mother, my grandmama- Ruth Arlean Warren.  Grandmama lived to almost ninety-three.  She has been gone just under ten years-and is still missed. 

Christmas is a time to remember, the gifts “of a lifetime” given by those before us-gifts, that helped form us, into who we are, right now.  . . unlike tea sets and trains, the gifts of loved ones, do not “break their main springs or clockworks” thus becoming useless or uninteresting.  Gifts of loved ones “happen” to us . . .bestowed naturally and habitually.  I wish now, I had thanked them, for teaching me to love a garden, songbirds and flowers.  Beyond those things, I learned how to be resourceful and to deplore wastefulness.  I was taught the value of work 

 I learned to be grateful and to pray.  These things still sustain me and have been  just the tools, I have needed, thus far.

Christmas is a time to remember.

 

 

Today is the first day of the holiday break.   The morning was too lovely not to notice, as I drove to work.  There was a mist hanging over the fields and pastures.  When the sun rose over the tree line, the mist became tinted  and what a difference, it made to the countryside.  The sun looked like a bright clementine for a while.  Moments later it turned the color that only the sun can claim. . . though maybe the daffodils would disagree, as they come as close as anything I know of. 

The air was  only slightly chilled.  So far, a warm Christmas day is predicted.  I took a chance and put a live poinsettia out by the lamp post.  The temperature  even at night, is supposed to be mild. . . time will tell, as it always does. 

 School dismissed early today and I took full advantage of that.  I bought a gift for my sister, filled the car with gas, and  then came home.  I commenced to wrapping presents, determined to finish that project.  Tomorrow, at long last, I am going to Elizabeth City, and I so want to leave the house in good order.  

It took the best part of the afternoon, but it is with great pleasure I can say that the presents are wrapped  and nestled beneath the tree.  Most of the ornaments have been hung and how beautifully familiar they are.     The kitchen is a kitchen again-and oh, the Christmas china is on the table.  I also started packing.  How good it feels to prepare for a visit with my only daughter and grandchild.   I will stay a few days and then come back to the rabbit patch, for my older sons, Brant and Tres are coming home on Christmas eve.  To say,  I am “happy as a lark”  is an understatement.  If all goes well, I hope to have a special supper for Christmas eve.  Lyla will be waiting for Santa,  for the first time this year, so they will not come til Christmas day.  I have no idea what time my sons will arrive,  either.  It matters little to me, what details work out, as long as they all get here safely.  I always say, that I am my happiest, when my children are all gathered and sleeping under my roof again.  Of course, they find this amusing and have no comprehension of this notion.  The boys tease me, that we are sleeping-and  so they wonder how this could evoke such joy for me.  The truth is, all I know is that for a little while, we are “the way we were”.  

When the children were young, they received three gifts from Santa-in keeping with the gifts of the “Wise men”.  Jenny plans to do so with Lyla.  One of the gifts, was always a book-and I still have them, of course.  Mama would ask the children what they wanted for Christmas, and they would say things like Lucky Charms or White bread.  When Jenny was two, she asked Santa for”fried chicken and diamond earrings”.  These stories still tickle me.  Tres asked for a snowman one year, as we have never had a white Christmas, in this “neck of the woods”.  Lyla has already visited with Santa and she asked for “presents”.  When I was young, I saw the “real Santa” and did not know it at the time.

Mama used to sew and make all of our “Sunday ” dresses.  Sometimes they matched, but not always.  I used to hate the “fittings” for I was bound to get stuck by pins no matter how still I stood.  The fittings also seemed to come at the most undesirable times, too. They seemed to come, when my sister I were creating the most exciting dramas with our dolls.  Mama sewed a lot and we took little notice of what she was doing at the sewing machine.  In fact, we tried to steer clear of Mama altogether, when she was sewing.  

Most every year, we got a doll for Christmas-real dolls that looked like babies and shut their eyes to go to sleep.  I probably loved dolls more than any other toy.  I still remember their names, for the dolls were our companions and  were never far from us. One year, the dolls came with a lot of little dresses.  I thought “Santa” had performed some miracle, as the dolls had dresses made from the same materials as our own.  I remember knowing one dress was going to  be itchy, and so did not make the doll wear that one often.

It was years later when I pieced things together.  I was no longer playing with dolls and  so I asked Mama  about that particular Christmas.  Mama said money was especially tight that year, and so she made all of those little dresses.  She said it was tedious work, as the dresses were so little and it took her a long while to make them.  That is when it “dawned on me”, that I had seen the real Santa, after all.  

One year Kyle asked for a bike for Christmas.  We bought one ,  not assembled, as money was tight that year for us.  I wanted that bike put together and begged my husband to do so weeks before Christmas.  Jamie said it would take him twenty minutes tops and not to worry.  Jamie worked on that bike for hours, Christmas Eve night-finally a neighbor and friend joined the effort.  Nuts and bolts were missing, and some were not the right size.  It was a harrowing night and I declare Kyle got up within an hour of  the completion.   . .the real Santa forgot to eat the cookies, that year.

Wednesday

It is raining at the early service.  It is a softly falling rain, and begs one to linger under a soft blanket.  I have a lot of “loose ends”  to tie up, before I leave, so I can not heed the beckoning of a morning rain.  I must use extra caution on my drive to Elizabeth City.  I must pack the rain coat- and the “Christmas books”  that tell the stories of the many reasons, I love Christmas.  I will sing “Joy to the World” with Lyla and “Away in a Manger”-Lyla will sing her “Twinkle Bells” and I will laugh-and I  am bound to cry too, as I am so sentimental (and Irish).   

Dear Diary-I am glad for Christmas, when hearts are  especially tender to one another.  I am glad for memories of  being loved, for I always have been. . . and  I am  especially  glad  that “All hearts come home for Christmas”.  

Morning broke again with a holy silence. It is hard to be anything but reverent when all around you is still.  The peace washes over you like rain and acts like a comforting tonic.  . . when the day is born gently.  I am always humbled at the majesty of nature, and at the same time empowered, knowing I am part of it, for our Source is the same.

I came in and started on the “Christmas projects”  .  I started right off sorting the presents, by family.  When all was said and done,  one present was missing.  I took everything out of the Christmas closet, something that has not  happened in years.  Well, now the Christmas closet is in good order.  This was the only closet, not cleaned out in July.  Besides gifts, the closet holds wrapping accessories and my beloved Christmas china.  I had not planned on this task and besides that, I did not find the gift.  The hall was a disaster and I explained to Christian  I was looking for a gift,  He made tracks, remembering the  search for the ornaments.  As I was putting things back in the closet, I found the gift.  It was in a bag, hanging on the door of the closet.  

By noon, Kyle had the tree up and shining through the double windows  in the living room.  I was wrapping presents and humming as I did so.  For the first time in years, I ran out of boxes, then tape, and then wrapping paper!  I always buy a surplus of supplies after the holiday. so it is a mystery to me how that happened.  I had to go to town, in the midst of things.  The nearest town is about fifteen minutes, so I combed my hair and went.  I had about fifty gift bags, but Christmas is but once a year, and I really love wrapped presents.  I found some candy cane paper, snowmen and Santa (for Lyla) – all red and white, so I was pleased, but this was the second hour of interruption for me, if you count the Christmas closet ordeal . . .and I did.  

I slipped a chicken and broccoli casserole in the oven  and put on a pot of rice- and continued wrapping presents.  Kyle and I worked on the porch.  Kyle loves Christmas.  He did not complain once as we worked, but ran to find extension cords and light bulbs, eagerly.  This made the work go quickly.  Thankfully, all of the lights worked.  I had tested them yesterday, but that doesn’t always ensure success.

Tonight, I am going to work til I can’t.  I have not given up on making cookies either . . .  of course,  tomorrow is Monday-and you know that changes everything.

 

The early service, in the rabbit patch territory, was a cold and still one, today.  I went out to collect pine cones and thought the sound of the door shutting, would shatter the world.  Heavy frost was just beginning to sparkle in the first light.  Cash and Christopher Robin, had been so eager to accompany me, and had darted out in an unmannerly fashion. They seemed quite shocked at the stark landscape, covered with icy crystals. . . and stopped dead in their tracks, for a moments to survey just where they had landed.  I had a bit of luck and found plenty of pine cones quickly.  Pine cones are wonderful for starting fires.  When I came in, that dog and cat did too, like a flash, as if they were escaping from something horrid.  I started a fire in the wood stove and then a small one in the den, with the “morning table”.  How good it felt to be at home and what “great expectations”  I was harboring.  

I was hopeful that the bedroom would be be put back together-and maybe we would finally get our Christmas decorations put up.  Dare I try to make cookies . . again ?-(the kind you want to eat).  The morning  is full of hope, for me.

By mid morning the bed was set up and most of the shoes were in the closet. Of course, the door to the closet needs some adjustments as it no longer shuts properly, but drags on the carpet, instead.    The dresser  sits against the wall, waiting patiently for the mirror to be hung above it.  The only job, I do not take pleasure in,  that looms before me , is hanging a stack of clean clothes .  Cash and Christopher Robin are not allowed in the only carpeted room in the house and this caused a great deal of distress for them. The circumstances are new to them as they are nearly always wherever I am.  Still, I was unmoved by their pleading as I am well aware of what their reaction may be to a new, soft floor-and was not willing to risk it.  When the linens  were on the bed, and the faint scent of lavender wafted in the air, I felt  like the tragedy of the discovered hole in the floor was distant and far behind me.  I had been right-it was just a hole in the floor, after all.

At last, in the moments just after the noon hour, the bedroom was mostly complete.  Even the little mirror was hung.  Not everything that came out, went back in.  Once again, I had a small box for donation.  At least, there wasn’t a bit of trash.  It has really surprised me to find how few possessions I typically use.  I have not yet missed a thing I disposed of in July.  I thought, to myself , that I have “been moving out”,  in a way,  for a long time-and I laughed at that.

I can never stay on just one task, it seems.  Ever so often, I would venture to the storage barn, and bring some “Christmas” in the house.  The wreaths came in one by one,  some needed new ribbons.  Lights came in and were checked strand by strand.  As I searched. I was so very grateful, that the storage barn had been cleaned out this past summer.  Of course now, we will not eat at the kitchen table  this weekend.  As , I rambled in the barn, I noticed I had not come across the ornaments.  Each time, I went out, I looked without any luck.  When it was almost dark, I was sure, that somehow I had accidentlly “donated” the precious ornaments.  I almost cried remembering Jenny as a little girl, picking out a snowflake each year.  I have five ornaments alike, of each kind, to represent my children.  Most were bought at Christmas shops and were especially pretty.  Through the years, the collection has grown until it is quite an impressive assortment.  I gave up and felt awful about it.  These were some possessions, I was very sorry to lose.  As is my habit, I repeated they were just ornaments.  I struggled not to cry over “things” in front of Christian.  . .but, it was difficult as the ornaments represented some fond memories.  One day, I intended to give each child a “set” of them.   Just as dusk set in, I decided to take one last look. . .and-  I found them!  I will not be so prideful about my noble ability to  care so little about possessions, in the future.  

I did hang wreaths today and the contents of the Christmas closet are out in the broad daylight.  The bedroom is in good  order and Cash nor Christopher Robin seem to care one iota about it.  Tomorrow, I am hoping again, the tree will be decorated and presents will be under it.  . . and the ornaments will adorn the tree as they have done faithfully,  for more than two decades.  

Dear Diary, I am glad for warm fires on cold mornings.  I am glad for beds with clean linens and wreaths on doors and barns too.  I am glad to have gently taught lessons . . .  and am especially glad to have  found the ornaments, gathered over the years ,  after all.

 

 

 

Wednesday

Winter came in last night with a cold and mighty wind.  It matters little to me that the calendar does not yet declare it is winter at the rabbit patch.   All of a sudden, the wind blew with a force, that  sent branches flying against the farmhouse and there were even snow flurries of  wild, fine flakes .  This morning,  a substantial amount of autumn leaves had been mercifully swept away to places like the patch of young woods, in the far corner of the territory.  What was left of them, lies in heaps, hither and yonder, as if I had raked them, myself.  

This morning, the ground was frozen and the  faint smell of wood smoke hung in the air.  The temperature was in the twenties-and sure  chilled  my southern blood.  The school children donned mittens and cheerful hats with fringe and tassels.  We were all disappointed that the snow did not stick and  that we had to carry on as usual.  In the south a snow day is like a holiday.  My friends from up north, that have relocated here, all tease us about this.  In Farm Life, and most all of the rural communities, it is the farmers that clear the roads.  We are likely to lose power, too.  I have no clue how to put chains on tires, and it doesn’t matter, for none of us are going anywhere. 

I came home today and made a small fire in the den.  Christian has been sick, but he kept the fire in the wood stove tended.  Sitting by the fire, I came to a decision.  I have decided to take the rabbit patch off the market, until late January.  We are in such a state of disarray with the floor repair and the painting,- and until recently the untidy condition of the yard, it just makes sense , to me, to consider an “interlude”. Of course, I have cleared this with my sister, Delores, who is a realtor, in Raleigh-and with Will and Tres, (pronounced Trace) who are business minded and dependably advise me, in such matters.  It is Christmas, after all and I am not likely to enjoy any aspect of selling a house, during the holidays.  My realtor is in agreement and so we made it official today.  

When things are in good order, and Christmas has passed, I will once again post a “for sale” sign under the old oak tree and hope for the best.  Until then, I will continue readying the rabbit patch for  the new lives that will call it their own, and dream of my next rabbit patch with a cozy cottage, where I will plant roses-and maybe tomatoes.  Winter is a good occasion  to dream.

Kyle is determined to get the Christmas tree up.  The living room is about finished and I see no reason, not to go along with him.  Once the tree is up, I will wrap the secrets in the Christmas closet, in pretty paper.  I love to wrap presents and take measures to  make sure they are attractive.  The papers all match in an odd sort of way and ribbons are hand tied .  Name tags are hand made and so it is quite an affair altogether.  People either  love to wrap gifts, or detest it.  There seems to be no in between.

Thursday

How happy I am to announce that the carpet is being installed as I am writing this.  I did not get  anxious about such a small inconvenience, really-but I am quite relieved and happy that order is being restored.  I had gotten used to gathering my clothes and shoes from the hall way and my dresser, which was in the middle of Christians’ room.   I learned to adapt to the conditions while I waited for the new floor.  Living on the remnants of an old farm has been of great profit to me.  I have learned what to do with “interludes” (or how to wait).   I suppose “practice makes perfect” rings true in facing minor adversity.  . .still, I am so very glad the ordeal is almost over. 

 I am hopeful that in a short while, Kyle will have his beloved Christmas tree . . .and I will have my shoes, back in the closet . . .and maybe, when order is restored and at last, the Christmas tree twinkles,  I will muster the courage and try again, to make cookies.

Dear Diary, I am glad for shelter when a cold wind blows. I am glad for the chance to hope and dream.  . . I am glad for Christmas trees and” interludes”.   . .and I am very glad for for lessons learned from living on a rabbit patch.