While the Fire Burned Brightly | Eastern North Carolina Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant mémoires of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    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 statement.

    While the fired burned brightly, last night, I took notice of the night sky. The stars do not show in the great numbers they did a few months back, but they seem much bigger. Now, the constellations are easily recognizable. I miss the moon, but the dog stars do what they can to lend comfort.

    The 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. 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 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 diamonds I feel small, yet valuable. My perspective shifts and I have a sense of well-being. The wild kitten lies down and I know we are ok with one another, too.