There is a rabbit family that lives in the “Quiet Garden”. This morning three of the bunnies attended the “early service”. They were quite serious about their breakfast, when light was faint. As soon as the first rays of morning streaked the territory, however, the bunnies began to play. This disturbed a robin, who was still in his plight for breakfast. The robin scolded the young rabbits and flapped his wings in a threatening manner, which made them dash in all directions. It was the first “early service” I had attended at the rabbit patch, in almost a week and I wondered if some sort of feud had developed in my absence-or if the robin was just grouchy.
Brant and I got back around noon yesterday, from Elizabeth City. It had been a wonderful and very productive week. We managed to have a lot of fun, as well. I think, we all were sorry to see it end. So many projects had been completed. There were special meals. We watched a thunderstorm, one evening and ate ice cream at odd hours. Lyla said “I am glad we are all together.” I agreed whole heartedly, for there was some sort of beautiful and familiar feeling that was present, while we were all together.
On the way home, Brant noticed from some sticker, I never knew about, that I was long over due for an oil change and was adamant it should be done within the hour or else the car would likely fail me- and at any given moment. Out of fear, I relented and had it done before I got back to the rabbit patch. I am awful at such things and usually need conversations embellished with stern warnings to do any business of that sort.
The rabbit patch seemed more sprawling than ever, after being in the village by the laughing river, for a while. Of course the grass needed mowing, but otherwise, it was mostly tidy. My boxer, “Cash” ran several laps in unbridled joy at my return. My cat, “Christopher Robin” sauntered by, seeming only slightly interested in my return – but I heard him purring.
I had high hopes of mowing today after the early service. Within the first fifteen, minutes, the newly replaced bolt, that holds the deck up, broke. Not to be out done, I found some wire and rigged it successfully. It would not start back, so I played with the connections to the battery. The heat was about unbearable, but I was determined and eventually got it started. In the next fifteen minutes I hit a root, and bent the deck in so the blades could not turn. I tinkered with the thing, for most of the afternoon-and to no avail. I didn’t care one iota when it started raining. I was hot, filthy and had to battle “yellow flies” while lying in the dirt. I had not made a bit of progress. I was discouraged and cranky. In such circumstances, I call Mama and complain to my hearts’ content. Then, I collect myself and start putting things in perspective. So while it rained, I began to think of all the wonderful gifts in my life-my loved ones especially, and suddenly it seemed foolish to get so worked up over a lawn mower. I had laughed at the robin this morning for acting like he would surely starve just because the bunnies were kicking up a fuss . . .and now, I had followed suit and acted like I would surely perish, all because of a lawn mower.
The rain fell steadily and the sound of it had the same affect as listening to poetry. It did cool things off, thankfully, too. I am not fond of the souths’ hot, humid weather. . .nor the biting insects. But, summer does offer me sweet liberty and magnolia trees with their fragrant blooms. . .and there are nights with a million twinkling stars. There is the wild honeysuckle and Miss Claudias’ beloved peaches. . . . Summer, like every season, comes bearing gifts.
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