I like to sit on our door-sill

and watch the place above the hill

get lighter every minute till

the moon comes up all bright and still.  


from The Moon by May Morgan

Children's poem

Dried Sunflower

Sunday, September 9, 2018

My father kept chickens during the last years of his life, and I used to enjoy walking with him down to the barn and coop he built.  He always said it was a relaxing job; and sure enough it was.  He and I would stand for a long time perfectly still, watching the white and speckled hens peck and mutter.  No need to talk, no need to be in a hurry. 


There is a vast and efficient world of creatures we never notice; creatures who carry on their mesmerizing work to music we never hear.  Occasionally someone notices, like my father. . . someone who stays still long enough to see and who, I'm glad to say, passes that treasure on to me.

Fresh Eggs for Breakfast

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

A Dozen, Please

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Bee Balm

* * * 

To make sure I don't get caught outside when the wind blows cold and gray, I start in September to gather the herbs I want to dry and keep for winter.  I've simplified the process quite a bit from the early days of my herb gathering.  Instead of jars and jars of carefully-labeled herbs sitting on our pantry shelves, I now have one or two blends for what ails us.  That way whatever you're "down with," there's sure to be an herb in one of the blends that will help.  


It's all part of a new plan I have.  I don't worry so much anymore about getting everything just right, because I can't anyway.  I take whatever I'm given and make it a good thing.  That's all.  Everything else, everything unfinished or poor in spirit is left to go to seed.  

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Friday, September 14, 2018

Linda's Clock I

Linda's Clock II

Linda's Clock III

Here are my favorite clock pictures from the Rabbit Hill Studio.  As it turns out, all of them belong to my sister, who is quite a clock enthusiast.  She lives in a sunny home in the pines, in the pines of north Florida; and everywhere you look her home says "hello!"


A clock is a dignified thing, upright and understated, like an English gentleman.  It wakes us up each morning and at night tells us we're past our bedtime.  Now-a-days mine is telling me "keep it moving."


So I do.

And so I do.

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

September 17, 2018, Wash Day

Monday Wash Day

When I was a young wife with a four-year old and a 4-month old baby, I used to hang our clothes out to dry on a clothesline.  I never minded this chore, even in chilly weather when my fingers turned stiff and white  I hung child-sized shirts and pants, colorful towels and baby blankets in straight rows to watch them from the kitchen window of our tiny duplex swing back and forth in the light breeze. 


Then when the sun soaked everything dry with warm light, I unpinned them from the rope line, placed them in a basket, and carried them inside where I folded each familiar piece of fabric into a perfect little square.


What was there not to like ?   


They say women have lost the sense of community they had throughout much of history in part because they no longer meet at the water's edge to wash clothes together.  It's true we have come a long, long way from that.  But the sun and the sky and the Tennessee breezes I once enjoyed weren't a bad substitute. 


Today I washed three loads of laundry and dried them lickety-split in a hot drier.  It was quiet and efficient.  My fingers were warm and dry.  I carried what I folded upstairs to the linen closet, and carefully placed two perfectly-squared stacks of linens along the edge of a shelf.  The sun's light fell in even slats on the door and hallway floor as I turned to open the window...the same air I smelled in Tennessee, the same breeze I felt from that tiny duplex window.


The road can be long at times, but the view is often the same.   

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

It's time to order supplies for this year's ten batches of soap I hope to complete by Christmas time.  I know it's time to get started because the cypress vine is covered with tiny red flowers, which means it's fall, which means it's time to make soap.  


Homemade soap has been around Rabbit Hill so long I've forgotten what store-bought soap smells like.  I don't even know the current brand names anymore.  But I can tell you all about Calico and Foxfire and Appalachian Spring. Now that's fine soap!

Red Rooster Coffee

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Friday, September 21, 2018

Carrot Cake


We have a saying around here.  If you're having an especially good day, you are having "a carrot day."  And if you really want to do it up right, make a carrot cake to go with the carrot day.


While you're at it, don't forget that a good cake deserves a good display.  When you go to the trouble of getting out all those spices and eggs and carrots, common sense tells you it needs some flair.    

It just so happens (well, it doesn't just so happen--I tend to go out looking for these things), that I have a black cake stand and dome ribbons that do justice to an orange-tinted and cream cheese iced carrot cake. 


So come September, I enjoy mixing the cake and smelling it in the oven of course; but the real excitement comes when I put it on the black cake stand and top it with the dome and its flairs. 


It makes for a true Carrot Day at Rabbit Hill.   

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Thursday, September 27, 2018


It rained again today, same as yesterday and the day before that.  Drizzle mostly.  The dog and I tried to carry on in our usual cheerful way, but I soon gave up and spent the day straightening out the upstairs closet.  He took first to barking at the rain streaks on the window, then hid under a blanket. 


I have an addiction to the sun and its smiling face, left over from my days living in Florida where they don't allow cloudy weather. When I draw or paint, it's usually of a sun, either a folk art image or a kindly round man-face.  Otherwise, what's the point? 


Under the Weather

Light is sweet, and it pleases the eyes to see the sun."  (Eccl. 11:7, NIV)

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

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