When the Woods are Golden | Eastern North Carolina Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs 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.

    Dear Diary, Tuesday was lovely.

    Not every day is full of lovely things-but today was. It is true this year, at least, that "March does go out like a lamb". On days like this one, it ought to be a sin to be inside. I took full advantage of every chance I got, to stand in the sunlight. It is on account of that I saw the blossoms in the wind and the violets growing beneath them.

    Driving home from work, I noticed my beloved winter wheat fields in all their glory. I do not think anyone could argue, if they were in the midst of winter wheat in March.

    Not long after I arrived at the rabbit patch, it started to sprinkle little silver drops. I decided to make soup, as I am only prone to make soup in frightful weather. The occasion of a cool rain warranted soup and I so I put together a hearty tomato soup with plenty of basil. I baked a loaf of bread and while the soup simmered and the bread was rising, I called my friend, Jo Dee. We were having a pleasant conversation and the rain became heavy. The sun was shining faintly throughout the thundering. Though Jo Dee doesn't live so far from the rabbit patch, there wasn't a cloud in sight at her house. The rain was quick to pass and that is when I saw the rainbow. Jo Dee was in mid sentence about something when I abruptly ended the call, for, I told her, "the most beautiful rainbow, I have ever seen!" I called Kyle and Christian. They came running, expecting to fight fire, so they were relieved it was all because of the rainbow. They hushed any complaints, when they saw it. The sky was dark blue and maybe that is why the rainbow was so vibrant. The colors were distinct and bright. No other rainbow, I had seen before, compared to this one.

    It did not phase Jo Dee, that I hung up on her. She is used to my behavior when I see something beautiful. She herself, has been known to brake, while driving, at the sight of a cardinal in a pear tree.

    Dear Diary, I love everything!

    In contrast to yesterday, today was overcast. As I feared, the dogwoods are blooming and with Easter weeks away! The fairy roses of the spireas have come and gone, so now it is up to the azaleas for Easter Sunday to look at all familiar. I noticed that the jasmine is blooming. Woodland trees wear crowns or garlands of the bright sweet smelling flowers. The jasmine flowers seemed to light up the woods on this "silver" day. No matter which tree the vines clamber upon-oaks, pine or the lowly sweetgum, the tendrils with golden blossoms show no favoritism. My friend, Julie loves the smell of Jasmine, and I always think of her when the jasmine blooms.

    I love every season. With the arrival of each season, I declare it my favorite. I do not intend to be fickle, but I am enamored by all sorts of occurrences throughout the year. I love snow and I love tulips. I love summer mornings. I love roses and autumn leaves. I really love Thanksgiving, and I really love Christmas - and now, today, when the woods are golden, I remember . . . Dear Diary, I love Jasmine, too.