"What a marvelous night for a moondance."

Van Morrison, singer/song writer

"Moonshadow" the Cat

Friday, August 2, 2019

The Boys

August is a very good month for the moon.  Just think of it. There it is up in the clear, warm sky, all smiling and sure of itself, excited about another upcoming harvest performance.  I love a moon with that kind of confidence.  

I've always been soft on the moon, so it startled me one night about five years ago to realize I hadn't actually seen it lately.  "Wait a minute," I thought.  "Where's my old friend, the Moon?  And exactly how long has it been since I watched it move into the trees out back near its familiar place over our house?" 

I had no idea.

It was a strange feeling to think of the moon as missing.  "What if it just--stopped coming. . . What if it wasn't there anymore?" 

I wondered about that for a while. 

The truth is, of course, I hadn't seen it because I had simply not taken the time to do the one easy thing that would have kept it overhead--to look up.  How could I? I had been too busy, too entertained, and a little too full of myself.  I don't even remember now what it was that seemed more engaging than my old blue-white friend. 

Shame on me.  Without missing a beat this silent ball of light thousands of miles away in the dark of space, floated over earth's horizon without fail right on time every night according to its own celestial clock.  Surely that was worth noting.  Surely it deserved my respect and attention.  

From here on out and for all future days, I decided to  "never miss seeing the moon again." 

It was a good decision.  Now when the moon is there and visible, I say "hello!" It doesn't take long, but the sense of wonder it brings to my own small world is long lasting.  

It wasn't long before I began to pass along this new thought to my family as well, and I think it's taking hold.  Sometimes one of the boys will text me to say, "Quick! Go outside and look at the moon!"

I consider that a badge to wear proudly.  

It's a funny thing about us humans.  We bury our hearts and heads within a six or seven foot layer of air near the ground, never looking up, while the whole expanse of eternity hovers above us, dancing and singing. 

I can't let that kind of party go on without me anymore. 

Man In the Moon

"I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass by that splendid moon."

Emily Bronte, in Wuthering heights

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

When my family and I moved from the mountains to Florida many years ago, as a five year old I was in awe of everything. Suddenly a mountain girl was walking on sand and eating oranges off the trees in her own back yard.  "There really is Paradise," I thought. 

One of the things I still remember clearly, and there are many, is the sweet smell of the air, especially at night.  With so many tropical plants and flowers around us wee little mountain folk, the air was a swoozy mixture of sweet perfume. When I was old enough, I drove my car along the narrow beach roads just to breathe in the beautiful, unfamiliar scents.  

Lemon Blossom

What stands out most to me from those years is the smell of orange blossom, and the lemon and lime. Coming from coal country where the only thing we knew was the biting smell of smoldering coal, my family and I didn't know what to make of it all. 

That's the reason I still have a longing for a real orange or lemon tree to be growing in our yard.  But alas, it hasn't happened yet even though I've tried many times.  Citrus can't make it through a winter here in north Georgia.    

Nevertheless, I press on.  This year I planted three patio citrus trees in pots: lemon, key lime, and kumquat. Yes I know.  It was an optimistic move, but here's how there is hope. 

All I have to do is move the three red pots indoors when cold weather comes pushing its way through in a few months, where they will remain happy and healthy near a sunny window.  There now; and you were worried.   

There's more good news, however.  One of the trees blossomed this week for the first time! Orange blossom is one of the most expensive essential oils you can buy. That's why it's been years since I was last able to experience that beautiful tropical scent.  So as soon as I saw the two white blossoms hiding behind dark green leaves on the lemon tree, my nose and I moved up as close as we could to the tiny flowers. 

Orange Slices

There it was.  That sweet perfume I once thought was from paradise itself; the same one I followed after faithfully on warm, cloudless nights along that little two-lane beach road in Florida. . . now revisited in my own patio garden.  

The fruit, I admit, might not make it to maturity.  It might shrivel and die inside the house when the red mites settle in this winter, or the white flies, or some smut or another. 

But no matter. I saw two small flowers appear unexpectedly on a skinny little tree living near the foot of the Appalachian mountains this month.  For a brief minute I could recall those slow drives along the beach and the warm perfumed air.  

It seemed to me like reward a-plenty for my efforts. 

Until next time,

The Head Rabbit

Saturday, August 17, 2019


The sun has taken on "that certain slant" again, telling me fall isn't so far away, and I'm starting to see acorns on the driveway already.  The anticipation of seasons never gets tiring or old.  

One of the things I like to do this time of year is prepare what we call our flu season emergency supplies.

(To be continued. . . )