When light fell on the rabbit patch this morning, it was bright and beautiful.  The air is colder than it has been- and it ought to be in November.  Contrary to my belief, the cold bright air did not shatter when I opened the back door to call the wild kitten for breakfast.

 “Jack Frost” has still not made his presence known and so the sweetgum trees still have some green left.  This lowly tree is hardly ever found in a yard, purposefully.  The sweetgum drops its’ seeds in little round carriers that are unsightly and hurt when you step on them.  If you burn sweetgum wood, it snaps and crackles like no other.  The sweetgum survives in the woodlands, where man doesn’t care if they grow or not.  In the fall, after the frost, the sweetgum “puts on airs” and turns every  shade of every color known to autumn.  They rival the prideful maple in the country landscape.  If you see a patch of woods that are breathtaking with color-thank the sweetgum.

Today, the “government changes the time back” as my grandmother used to say.  I suppose that many dread the early twilight.  For me, it means soft lights will be turned on earlier in the old farmhouse and supper will be eaten at a more reasonable hour.  I will say “good night” to the rabbit patch earlier and the stars will bear witness as usual, so I will not need to complain about that.  It is just a little longer than a fortnight that we must endure, after all.  Even “the government” can’t change that.

 There is no “Sunday Dinner” at the rabbit patch today.  Mama and daddy couldn’t come and that just changed every thing.  Christian has been providing music for Churches recently too and doesn’t get home til mid afternoon- and so, I have decided to at least make a cake.  I plan to put cinnamon in it like it’s free.

 It is the eve of the holiday season, now.  It is the time just before families gather and twinkling lights are seen on city streets and across fields, too.  November softens hearts and can dissolve  bitterness if we but allow it.  Gratitude is a mighty force.

 Every day for a while,  in the still and chilly  November evening, I will burn leaves where the summer garden used to grow.    I am apt to light candles and wrap in a quilt made long ago, afterwards.  Cash and Christopher Robin will sleep unencumbered with human notions-and maybe some time in November. . . . the wild kitten will, too .  

On Wednesday, I came home to the rabbit patch.  I had been in Elizabeth City just  a day, shy of a week.  The wild kitten ran to greet me and acted like a well-mannered house cat!  It was a lovely surprise, though Cash, my boxer seemed annoyed that he did not get there first.  I now know I will not name the wild kitten “Ruth” and must consider a fitting masculine name, instead.

There were more leaves on the rabbit patch territory.  I like the effect and so it did not bother me in the least.  I will have an autumn fire again this weekend, anyway.  That is the routine til after Thanksgiving, usually, when you live on a place like the rabbit patch.

On Friday evening,  Kyle and Christian had plans with friends.  The farmhouse seems bigger when they aren’t here.   I had a quiet evening.  There wasn’t even a fairy in sight and no one cared what was for supper. This was quite a contrast from the previous days and it took me a while to adjust to not seeing what Lyla had in her mouth or where she was jumping from, every few minutes.  No one being hungry,  seemed shocking enough. 

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and so I thought about that.  It is a favorite time for me.  I have not seen Brant, my oldest son, since late summer and I miss him terribly.  I have only seen Tres, my second oldest son, once since August-and I miss him too.  When your children grow up and are in the “work force” gathering for a holiday, is complicated, especially one that falls on a Thursday.  We have celebrated holidays on odd days because of that, sometimes.   I tried to plan the menu, but that depended on  who would be here.  There is just no reason to make the cranberry casserole if Tres isn’t here.  I do not need to mix the corn and beans for succotash, if Brant doesn’t come home and so I abandoned that endeavor as I just missed my sons all the more.

I read some more of a now favorite book.  Wills’ mom, our “Miss Claudia” and Lylas’ “CC” gave it to me.  It is by Jane Watson Hopping, known as “The Pioneer Lady“,  not to be confused with the “The Pioneer Woman” of today.  This book is a collection of all things Christmas.  The author , who died in 1998, reminds me so much of Gladys Taber,  another favorite author and  it cheered me.   At Christmas-all of my children do come home.  Cash and Christopher Robin dozed while I read.  The wild and nameless kitten, will only come in the back door to eat, for now.  I thought how I have never looked for a cat, but I always have one, it seems.

 I was quite glad for the company of Cash and Christopher Robin.  I continue to get comfortable with this “place” in life.  Since 1981, I have been raising children.  Christian, the youngest is twenty three and so for all of my adult life,  there has been somebody hungry and a lot of laundry.  It is different now.   Some times  I am still young-other times I am very old.  The odd thing is, I never saw this coming.

 I keep myself busy and study in lots of different areas.  At some point, I will study the cello and at another, water colors.  The truth is, I need to show my children what to do with this liberty,  that will also come to them when their children grow up or when someone retires.  A “mothers’ work”,  is truly never done.

The big dipper sits right over the old barn just now.  There are less leaves on the sycamores and oaks, so the sky itself seems bigger.  The stars seem twice the size that they were in September.  The constellations do not go unnoticed as they did a short while ago,   when there were millions of stars over the rabbit patch, but instead, stand out clearly.  The November moon is supposed to be of historical significance this year and I look forward to that.

There is a lot to consider on a quiet evening, as it turns out.  I have decided to make soup tomorrow and will then plan the “Sunday Dinner”.  There are  also chores to be done , a fire to build-  and I  need to figure out a name for the wild kitten, too.

It is said that ” March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb”.  The same could be said of this October.  It seemed to me that October made up for the awful disposition of its’ first days, by rendering a long succession of beautiful days, til its’ conclusion. When all was said and done,  October was a lovely time.

Usually, the first frost falls on the rabbit patch just after mid October-not so this year.  The trees are barely changed in appearance as of now.  The dogwood has  just started to boast and the woodlands chime in with the some golden hues, if the sunlight falls just right.

I am old enough now to marvel at how time proceeds.  October stayed as long as it always does, yet somehow, seemed to slip away secretly and without warning.  Whatever manner in which October passed, for me it was time well-spent.

This was Lylas’ first real Halloween experience.  We visited a pumpkin patch one day and carved pumpkins, on another one.  On Halloween night, Lyla was a fairy and wore her wings quite naturally.  Jenny put together an ensemble from things she had, as I used to do when she was little.  The effect was charming, to say the least.  We banded together with several of Will and Jennys’ young friends and walked the same sidewalk that Lyla and I know so well.  The other children were older and experienced little cowboys and witches.  Lyla watched how things worked and caught on quickly.  She knew nothing about candy, but would dash as quickly as a little fairy can go, to catch up.  Her ribbons flew behind her and several times she dropped her wand.   She was always last by several feet and it took a while for her to actually accept candy.  Often, she would scramble up the steps and shout out “thank you! and leave empty-handed.  It has been a while since I enjoyed Halloween that much.

I am thankful for October.  I am glad for the time of pumpkins and nights that make the morning air crisp.  I like the bluest time of sky and the most golden light of the year.  When all is said and done. . .   October really was a lovely time.

By most accounts,  the last Sunday in October, passed in an ordinary fashion. The sun came up and brought its’ shine .  The laughing Pasquatank River , like a mirror reflected the glory the sky yielded.  Lately, the river has looked like glass every day  Will, saw the whole thing and  it made me sorry I had missed it.  It also made me glad he did not.  It said something about him that words will not do justice to explain.

Lyla woke up, and not long after waking, said “Honeybee”.  Now, that was “golden”.  I have been “Bee” just a short while and now “hu -bee” this Sunday morning!  

Late in the morning, Lyla and I took our walk.  It was an especially warm day. We met a neighbor , the owner of one of the tiny cottages, that I adore.  She was as gracious in spirit, as her home is in charm.  I could tell that I liked her right off.  She even extended an invitation for a visit-and I look forward to that.

A few blocks over, two small sisters were literally dancing around, as children are apt to when they feel joyful. “Tomorrow is Halloween!” rang out and “No school either!”   You couldn’t help but be happy with that kind of celebration going on.   I hope I see them tomorrow night.

In the afternoon, Will visited his mom, who lives just five minutes away.  She sent me a book, that is sure to be a favorite. as the subject is Christmas.  It is  a collection of old fashioned recipes, old photographs and Christmas literature-even carols. 

In the quiet of the evening hours, I thought about all of the moments the day had held.  It is the little things that  had made the difference.  From Will’s account of the sunrise to Lyla’s  good morning “honeybee”-from the sisters’ dance , to meeting a friendly neighbor. . .  and the gift of a  Christmas book, I love-I  thought about how all days are made up of moments and if I but consider the contents of any ordinary one of them-It is likely I will find something to be glad about.

 

Once again, I left after school on Friday for Elizabeth City.  Sometimes, things just work out.  We do not have classes Monday or Tuesday , and it just seemed I was destined to see Lyla wear little wings and wave a wand about, on Halloween.

Saturday

There was a lot to do on Saturday.  Will and Jenny were having a “dinner Party” in the early evening.  It would be the first one in the new dining room with the glass chandelier , that I just love.  Of course this occasion  warranted a thorough house cleaning and the yard tidied up.  There was fancy food to prepare  -and there is  always, Lyla.

Will set about his tasks in the yard.  Lyla was quite interested in this affair. It involved dirt and digging.  Children are always drawn to such things.  Lyla dug in some potting soil and transferred it to the bird bath with diligence.  I did not hinder her great effort, but instead was amused to see her learning about careful movement.  She would stop ever so often and watch her dad intently, then remembering her work would dart back to the soil she had claimed.

Jenny worked in the house, and at lunch we  all discussed our progress.  Jenny was concerned about the complicated recipe to be prepared and there was still more housework.  Will had an agenda that involved errands and a mirror to hang.  Lyla and I had our plans to stroll by the river-far away from all of that busyness .  So, we went our separate ways in the afternoon.

The river that laughs, was smooth as glass on this day.  Lyla and I stopped to consider that, for awhile.  Later, we walked by a small grove of pine trees.  I love the smell of pine warmed by sunshine.  A flock of blackbirds chattered noisily in a large cypress as we passed it.  You could hear them from a good ways off.   What a ruckus, I thought, but it was a happy sound.  I love blackbirds in spite of their lowly reputation.  They are are  impressive in the air- a “song and dance” act of sorts-and when blackbirds fly, winter is upon us.

We did not see one friendly cat on this walk, but we did smell the sweetest rosebush on Raleigh Street and we saw dogwoods turning all shades of red.  Against the royal blue October sky, it was a pretty picture.

In the Evening

When Lyla and I returned,  Jenny was ready to begin the worrisome recipe.  I have cooked all of my life and feel quite at home in a kitchen, but I must admit, I was a bit wary of this new concoction of ingredients I wasn’t used to. I did not know their nature nor habits in a simmering pot.  I was more nervous about Jennys’ dinner that I had ever been about  any of my own.

I considered arranging a  centerpiece, but Mandy who owns Pansy & Ivy,  was invited and  has such a gift with flower arranging that I declare her an artist in her own right, and upon that consideration, I abandoned my notions.  As it turns out, she brought a sweet arrangement and it was perfect.  She also brought a pie and she could probably sell pie, too, I noted, later.

Another guest, Sarah has a reputation for her cooking skills and proves that frequently -so I sure hoped that the chicken  in the heavy sauce would turn out.

After Dinner

The table was especially pretty.   Everyone said the dinner was perfect.   Each family carved a pumpkin  afterwards.  Lyla played with the masses of seeds while the older children contemplated the fate of their own pumpkin.  

All things considered, this day in Autumn with its’ blackbirds singing  and fancy dinner was a time to remember- and  its’ memory may well come in handy on a long night in winter when there’s a cold wind blowing.

 

 The October climate deserves a crown.  For the last few weeks, any given day could have been a post card-with bragging rights.  I watch the dawning of the day, on my drive to work.  Light changes with hues of orange, lavender and pink and all shades in-between.  Finally a golden light proclaims that a new day is born.  In the evening an equally impressive, sunset paints the sky, so beautifully, it will stop you in your tracks-such is the way of October.

The rabbit patch is carpeted with a soft layer of leaves now, and I don’t mind that.  The huge sycamore leaves do require attention more frequently as they are quite large and tend to curl upon drying.  They cause you to wade through them and so I have been in the habit of building autumn fires, where the tomatoes used to grow. The oaks do not warrant such measures til Thanksgiving.  Frost has not yet fallen on the landscape, so the leaves on the ground do not yet make a flamboyant  statement.

While the fired burned brightly, last night,  I took notice of the night sky.  The stars do not show  up in the great numbers they did a few months back, but they seem much bigger.  Now, the constellations are easily recognizable. There is just enough moonshine now to light the path I walk.

A wild kitten is very curious about the fire and will keep me company-as long I keep my distance. The flames and warmth, seem to put us both in a trance, of sorts.  It acts as a natural tranquilizer and strands us both in silence.

Supper is late on the days I burn leaves and branches.  I do not dare leave something cooking on the stove while a fire burns brightly in the kitchen garden, for  small fires have a way of  making one forget everything else in the world-especially time.  Pine cones, which are handy for starting a fire, produce flames that are blue and green.  I am convinced that  even the most diligent can not bear to look away from the fire when pine cones are burning.

 I can not harbor resentment in the presence of a fire brightly burning in the kitchen garden.  Under a sky scattered with silver diamonds I feel small, yet  not insignificant.  My perspective shifts and I have a sense of well-being as the flames seem to induce a trance, of sorts.  The cares of the world  seem to “go up in smoke”  along with the branches from the old apple tree.

Nature may be the best  tranquilizer of all, for sky and water and fields and mountains . . . woodlands and  even, old rocks and garden fires, all lend a sense of peace, I think.  Somehow, nature survives calamities and being mistreated, without malice.  Nature seems to spend its’ energy on restoration,  instead of  seeking revenge . . or even justice.   Nature is not greedy nor wasteful.   It is  a worthwhile sermon, to consider and  it serves me well, to consider  . . .while the fire burned brightly.

Now is the time to hear the song of the wild geese in flight.  Leaves are hinting in subtle  ways that their glory days are not far off and the chill in the wind causes me to consider the condition of the wood stove.  It is also the time when fields lay golden until evening, when they become an expanse of warm russet.  In either state, a field says it is autumn.

There is something therapeutic about looking at large open spaces..  It rests the mind and can provoke us to have the deep thoughts we have been putting off.  This may be the longing people answer when they are drawn to the ocean or the vistas of the mountains. 

Yesterday, I left for Elizabeth City, the minute school was out.  At that time, it was a warm October day.  It was a lovely drive past pumpkin stands and houses with chrysanthemums on porches.  There is about a mile that the drive takes me past fields that are vast.  The late day sunshine fell on them and lit them up .  Now and then, leaves took to the air and it felt at those times like I was  driving in a parade that celebrated October.

Saturday Morning

It was still dark, when I woke up.  I went out anyway armed with coffee.  There was a cold wind blowing and rain had fallen in the night.  There was no evidence of the squirrel community, but a cardinal showed up and did great justice to his species, as he was a very bright red.  

I did not feel inclined to tarry, as the cold wind was steadily blowing.  I went in to read.  At some point, there was light and everybody was awake and hungry.  After breakfast, Jenny and  I took Lyla to a farm that had a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and several small animals.  The wind had settled to a light breeze and the morning had warmed to a bright and beautiful day.  Lyla came home with a small pumpkin and I had several ears of bright yellow corn to contribute to Will and Jennys’ new porch.  It was a good way to spend a morning.

Afternoon Strolls

We ate lunch outside in the fresh October air.  Afterwards, Lyla and I  took a walk, as is our habit.  I have learned a fair amount of new street names, though I can’t yet remember their exact location.  I do know, that on Raleigh Street,  there is a rose bush with a very sweet scent.  A friendly little boy with a dog, named Noah, live on Woodruff,  and play under a huge old magnolia tree.  We walked an hour and went down many little streets, but not for love nor money, can I tell you the name of the street with the  big  yellow cat that lays under a dogwood.

Jenny got a lot of things in their place, and Will worked in the yard again, while Lyla and I were sauntering through the village-like community.  It is a beautiful thing to watch a young family “setting up housekeeping” and even more endearing, when they are your own.  More than dishes, go into a new home. Maybe the hopes and dreams of the young couple, outnumber the furnishings.

In the last light of the day, a flock of wild geese  flew over the laughing river and filled the air up with the sound of autumn. . .  for  when fields lay golden, the first frost is no longer a fortnight away. 

I am quite sure that all the world sings in October.  I saw the sun rise this morning on my drive to work-and this day was born in a beautiful manner, I can assure you-and worthy of a song.  It started off with the fog that has become very familiar.  The sunlight was muted and it turned the gray fog a lovely shade of pink.  Nature is full of surprises and one never has “seen it all” as we think, I realised.  As the sun reached the tree tops, it crowned them in gold.  The trees whether stately or not appeared to shine themselves.  This morning, would be a hard act to follow.

October is full of wonderful and beautiful-in many forms.  The climate is particularly  pleasant with its’ bright days and cool nights.  I find it difficult to be inside when I am convinced that every day is the grandest that has ever been.  Today, I spent my break outside.  It was for just a few minutes, but long enough for me to disturb a covey of small birds under the persimmon tree.  The fruit is far from ripe, so I did not feel so bad about it.  Just past the persimmon tree, a bluebird was foraging in a carpet of bright yellow leaves.  This is why I love October, I thought.

Leaves tumbled across the road, on my drive home.  The wind today was friendly and without malice, as it had been just a week ago.  I pulled in to the rabbit patch and drove by the pumpkins and the yellow chrysanthemums on the porch-and I thought, this is why I love October, too.

All of the days’ inspiration showed up on the kitchen table.  It just seemed like the day warranted a celebration of some sort and so we had a “Sunday dinner” on a Tuesday night.  I made extra gravy for Cash, Christopher Robin and Christopher Robins’ little friend.  I have been trying to  “tame” the small kitten anyway, and thought surely gravy would help-and it did.  I  carry a little dish out each night with some sort of temptation in it.  He eats greedily and allows me to sit near enough to rub him.  This night was no different. 

He and I sat together, though there was a good foot between us.  The moon rose up and cast its’ shine like it has a million times before, but that fact did not diminish the effect it had on the rabbit patch.   .  . and I thought, this is why I love October. 

At First Light. . . . 

Saturday was as beautiful a morning as the one before it.  I went out expecting to find the usual circus of the squirrels in the yard-but no, the yard was as still as  it could be.  It made me smile to think that maybe the squirrels needed a rest-and it was well-deserved.  The birds sang anyway and the sun brightened the yard in lovely increments.

After a quick breakfast, Will and Jenny went to fetch a load of things from their previous house, and Lyla and I took a stroll.  I have been discovering new streets in the Riverside Village.  On this day, I found a street full of very old small cottages.  They were painted in lively colors and some were adorned with flowered shutters.  The exterior trims were ornate and quite appealing.  Flowers grew in every yard and there were wind chimes that tinkled in the slight breeze.  The yards were small, but were made the most of with all sorts of things growing everywhere.  I suspected the residents were lovely folks and very artistic by nature.  I loved them for saving the cutest little pieces of history I have seen in a long while.

By Afternoon. . . 

The afternoon was as wonderful as the morning though it still warranted a light jacket.  Lyla did nap as she ought to.  Will worked in the yard and Jenny put things away.  Lyla and I managed an early evening walk.  We walked past the time of the low slanted sun rays.  I started missing my boys-all of them, all at once.  This happens to me frequently when I have a nice visit with any one of them.  To me, they are a unit and it feels incomplete when we aren’t all together, no matter how nicely a visit is going.  It is an impossible conflict, other than a few times a year.  I understand fully the logistics of the situation, but I am a mother and a mothers’ heart feels as it is inclined to do so without any regard to sensibility at times.  I was having such a good time and wished the boys were with me, this autumn night.

When the sun had clearly set and with darkness at our heels, Lyla and I began the walk home.  I was in a bit of a hurry and trying to keep my bearings straight.  My landmarks are things like the huge magnolia , the house with the white dog or the house with the large lantana bush.  Why I do not pay attention to signs is beyond me.  It was almost dark and I had decided we were on the right trek, when a lady walking a cute little dog stopped for me to admire him-and I did.  She asked if I had seen the moon on the river tonight and was horribly shocked when I said no.  She insisted I stop immediately and head in that direction.  She convinced me.  It felt sinful not to take advantage of what she had described as the “the most beautiful moon that ever was”.  So, taking a sharp right, we headed for the river.  I smelled supper cooking in the homes and felt like I acurately named their fare several times.  Lights in the windows were shining brightly and muffled voices could be heard as windows were being shut.  It made me happy to see families safely gathered.

When the moon on the river came in to sight, I was not the least bit sorry I had met the lady with the little dog.  Lyla and I were the only ones at the rivers’ edge and we watched the moon shining in silence. I thought of Alfred Noyes and his beautiful description of moonlight-“the road was a ribbon of moonlight”.  I also thought that this moon was shining on my sons and it comforted me to think of it like that.

On the way home, I declared this Saturday to be one to remember and so I tucked the memory deep in my heart-where such things are kept.

Friday Morning

Friday morning dawned with crisp air that snapped with song birds calling out to one another.  The squirrels were as diligent as ever about their work and I watched them a while.  The sunlight was golden and so was everywhere it fell.  

After breakfast, Lyla and I donned sweaters and took off on a stroll. This is a habit of ours and we walk no matter the weather-but todays’ climate was as perfect as it could be.  The sidewalk is laced with sun and shade.  Autumn flowers bloom in the yards and the dogwoods are decked out with red berries and auburn leaves.  Some of the streets remain slightly flooded so we abandon our familiar route.  We have several new friends because of this.  Some of them are cats.  Some are trees.

In the Afternoon

Lyla barely napped in the afternoon.  Jenny had to write a paper and she is still unpacking.  I caught up on some reading while Lyla poured things out and picked them up again.  The afternoon was too glorious not to be out, so Lyla and I walked again, for a good length of time.  I followed the sidewalk down little unknown streets.  I so love the traditional picket fences and many of the cottage-like houses had them.  Periwinkles that look so delicate, adorned the fences profusely, having braved a hurricane and the brisk autumn air.  If all goes well, periwinkles reseed and I mean to plant some next year. 

I found a  new route to the laughing river and so we strolled for at least a portion of the way as we used to.  I was glad to see that the homes were not damaged though an ancient oak had fallen.  It saddened me terribly.  The trunk was as large as a dining room table.  I suspect a good many critters called it home. I love trees and consider them about as important as the house on a property.  I do hope to always have an old tree growing  wherever I call home.  I am thankful for the hand that plants a tree.

Before it was dark. . . 

Jenny had an errand to run downtown.  Elizabeth City has an old-fashioned book store that sells mainly books.  Not toys and clothing to mimic a cartoon character as some are in the practice of doing.  Of course, I love this place thoroughly.  On this day it was closed, as many businesses still are, due to the storm.  Two young children were peering in the book stores’ large window.  They were on their tip-toes and had their hands cupped around their eyes to cut out the glare, for a better view.  It was a cute sight and I wondered if they were making Christmas wishes.  I hoped so.

The Night on this Friday

When the sun rays start to slant, night is not far behind.  Jenny finished her paper and read it aloud.  The topic was a difficult one and I am sure there was little pleasure in composing it, but she did a fine job.  Lyla was tired early as she had all but skipped her nap earlier.  It wasn’t long after dinner, that we all declared it would be an early bedtime for all of us.  I planned to read when the house was quiet, but I was unable to keep my eyes open for long.

My last thoughts were feeling grateful for periwinkles growing by picket fences.  I thought how I loved little cottages with friendly cats and dogwoods with their cheerful, red berries.  This was a very good Friday.

Very Early in the Morning on Thursday

I like to go out first thing in the morning, not long after waking.  If weather permits, I  always do so and have my first cup of coffee.  in this way, I come to know the community of small animals that call the territory home, as we do.  This morning I saw a band of squirrels working feverishly.  My presence did not seem to make a bit of difference.  They were too busy to glance my way, let alone give a morning greeting.  A robin watched with me and I think he too was impressed with the agility and speed of the squirrels.  They dashed about rapidly as if  they were terribly late for something very important.  I am glad I am not a squirrel, I thought.

I hadn’t been sitting long, when a bookmobile pulled up and parked near the corner.  My daughter has not lived in her new house long and so it was a pleasant surprise. This may be “old hat”  for many people here, but we do not have this service in Farm Life, and I had not seen one since my own children were little.  If I were a resident, I’d have signed up this morning!

The Latter part of the day. . . 

Jenny had errands to run-one being a check up for Lyla.  All was well and I like the friendly and sensible doctor, who said Lyla was “perfect”.  I napped with Lyla after lunch. I didn’t mean but to lie down, but I fell asleep, while Jenny unpacked some things and placed them in their new homes.  Lyla and I took a stroll in the early evening and I met two sisters who built small homes that are joined by a living room.  It is a neat arrangement and it reminded me of the beautiful bond of sisters-and family in general.  The economy we face in our later years is daunting, so these sisters got creative and somehow it encouraged me.

When the Moon Was Rising . . .

I called Kyle and Christian in the evening.  All was well at the rabbit patch and Christian did feed the kitten, which I will call “Ruth” if it is a girl. 

 Before bed, I took Lyla out to see the the light of the moon on the river beneath it.  The Pasquotank  river was so still,  it seemed like a huge mirror.  Lyla was very quiet and watched the scene intently.  There is a certain look she gets on occasion and I do not speak when I see it.  She is thinking great thoughts or at least giving great consideration to something.  She and I watched for a while- or a year.  At some point, she raised her little finger,   pointed up and said “moon” , for the first time.  

The content of the most ordinary days holds some splendor it seems, if I but examine the moments that made them.  It is not a difficult task and most often beauty just leaps out and presents itself.  Whether the moonlight falls on the river beneath it, or illuminates an old oak growing by a ditch bank, makes no difference. The day does not withhold beauty from any segment of the population, but  instead is generous with all that seek it.