Feeding Wild Geese . . . and Wind | 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.

    I left Thursday morning for Elizabeth City. It was a peaceful drive even with a little rain falling. I thought of all that had been accomplished at the rabbit patch, in the last few weeks. There was much ado over the realtors' visit. It had all taken a toll, but I had survived, after all. There are still some chores, waiting for my return, but that is always the case. Now, was the time to play.

    Jenny had an appointment at ten am. The weather was pleasant and so Lyla and I headed for the playground, just a few minutes away. On the way, I met some lovely folks. As it turns out, the husband grew up not far from the rabbit patch and the wife, grew up near Lake Phelps, where my youngest sister, Connie lives. The wife walked with us for a short ways. It was like a gift to meet friendly folks-and so early in the day. What a nice morning, I thought.

    The park is nestled by a bridge, on the banks of the laughing river. There is a flock of geese, most days, gliding back and forth. Their presence add a nice touch of charm. While Lyla played, I watched a young man walk to the edge of the water with a small bag. The geese scurried towards him. He must be an old friend, I thought. He threw handfuls of some concoction in the water and the wild geese were glad about it. When he left, I took the scraps of a peanut butter sandwich. and Lyla and I fed them, too. We tried to make sure every one of them got a crumb. Jenny picked us up from the park, and on the way home, I thought how good it was to meet new friends and to feed wild geese, on a summer morning.

    On Friday

    On Friday, we woke to rain. It was a steady downpour. Light did not come boldly, but instead crept into the Riverside village. Hours later, so did thunder. The river turned lavender and remained that way all day. The rain seemed to alter time. There was no indication that morning had passed . We spent the day quietly. We sat on the porch for long whiles and watched the rain fall. All day long it rained . . .and it was beautiful. I wouldn't have believed, any thing could have disturbed the peace of that day . . but I was wrong.

    The realtor sent documents to be signed. The papers were "important" and "official" . They were "binding", as well. Now any sort of papers with rules and stipulations just unsettle me. It is an odd condition, I realise, but it has always been the case. Still, I signed everything and hoped for the best. Immediately, a second call came in, and it was necessary for me to make an important decision, on another matter, altogether. The third and last call was just a bit of a disappointment. Well, things surely turned around quickly, I thought. I could hardly concentrate and found myself having all sorts of notions. I had been so full of peace, even with selling the rabbit patch. How absurd, that I felt my confidence in the grand scheme of things, wavering. I went through all the right motions as Jenny had company, but I felt "off" and knew, that the first chance I got . . .I needed to tend to my heart.

    Saturday

    On Saturday, I woke early-and it was raining. It was quite windy. The young willow tree, with its' long tendrils flailing in the constant gale, made quite a spectacle of itself. The laughing river water was in a state of perpetual motion. Wind moves everything around-from mighty rivers to the seeds of summer wildflowers. I thought. There is nothing wrong with things getting rearranged, sometimes.

    I thought of the day before and regretted how easily my Faith had been shaken. I had prayed many prayers about my path. I had trusted. Things were unfolding and making good sense. It is easy to trust, when things seem to make sense. When there is order and logic, I can understand and go along my merry way with confidence. This is not difficult. It is when, there appears to be a kink, or a process accelerates more quickly that I expected-or slows down, either-whatever the case . . When it doesn't seem to make sense to me, I start to wonder and doubt. The realisation washed over me like the rain washed over the village . I felt like a "fair weather friend" to God. Rae called in the midst of my deep thought, and said she didn't see a thing out of order. Rae has this uncanny ability of discernment. I love Rae.

    The wind blew all day and showers popped up at any given moment. It was cool enough outside to be late April. I made a strawberry cake to share with Miss Claudia and Miss Thelma. All day, I pondered upon the "early service" -and hoped to do better. I kept in mine, that I was showing my children, how to act under all circumstances. . . Meanwhile, the young willow was being battered and blown hither and yonder, yet I did not sense the young tree was fearful-and on Sunday morning, it stood upright and quite unscathed. It was just a little wind, after all.

    Dear Diary, I am glad for geese on still waters. I am glad for wind that churns the water, too. I am glad for strawberries and rain. . . And I am glad for friends like Rae -and the young willow, too.