Monday mornings have never been my favorite thing, but at least I don’t have to eat my breakfast in the cold and wet like this bunny.
Out my window, May 3, 2021
And I’ve never eaten a meal with my ears tucked together to keep out the snow and rain.
Suddenly, my Monday morning suddenly doesn’t look too bad.
Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
~ William Wordsworth
Bunny checking out the vinca. June 28, 2020.
There are many rabbits in our neighborhood this year. As I take my daily walk, I see them hopping across streets and lounging on lawns. They sit beneath parked vehicles and nap in shrubbery. On yesterday’s walk Zippy suddenly asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” and I was momentarily confused. I mean, wasn’t it clear? I was walking.
And then I realized my partner’s question was directed to a rabbit lying a couple feet away from us, smack dab in the middle of the street, ears tucked back, as if that somehow camouflaged it. Which I guess it did, seeing as I hadn’t even seen it. (I’ll add that Emma, our short-legged doggo who’s in a much better position to notice things on the ground, was equally clueless about the rabbit’s presence). That bunny was completely chill. Not at all concerned it might get trampled by two humans and a dog. Or run over by a car. Or eaten by a coyote from the nearby open space.
Actually, I’m starting to think maybe I should adopt that bunny’s attitude.
Spotted this rabbit in Nebraska. The attitude feels a bit different than Colorado bunnies. Anyone else picking up on a General Woundwort vibe?
Grand Island, NE. June 2, 2020.
(Full disclosure: During my time in Nebraska, I saw very few people wearing masks and sensed hostility toward me and my mask-wearing ways. Which is to say, this bunny was probably chill and a total Bigwig, and I’m just projecting.)
May 14, 2018.
Mood: Unfocused and less-than-amused.
“Animals don’t behave like men,’ he said. ‘If they have to fight, they fight; and if they have to kill, they kill. But they don’t sit down and set their wits to work to devise ways of spoiling other creatures’ lives and hurting them. They have dignity and animality.” ~
I was at my front window doing quad stretches this morning when I realized I wasn’t alone. One of the many neighborhood bunnies was hunkered down in the vinca, showing an utter lack of concern for my presence.
Goal for today: no matter what arises I’ll try to maintain a chill bunny vibe.
As I hooped this morning, a bunny came into view. The furry beauty remained in that same spot, calmly chewing and staring into space, despite the fact that I spun and twirled nearby. And then Marcel, sensing something outside, jumped up in the window. The bunny casually glanced toward where the big white cat stared longingly, and immediately returned to her bunny business.
I’d like to emulate that self-confidence during this coming week. Me and the bunny, not overly concerned with matters outside our personal spheres.
I’m writing writing writing, but am not yet finished with this draft. I need to send the manuscript to my critique group in a few days. The clock is ticking.
No time to say hello, good-bye . . .
I just got back from a 4-mile run around the neighborhood. Emma started with me and then bailed at about 3/4 of a mile, possibly due to it being only 27 degrees. But it all worked out because as I dropped her off at home, I had the sense to put on my mask. Suddenly, it felt quite pleasant out there.
And when a bunny ran in front of me, I grinned and remembered that it’s Bunny Monday!
I’m sorry I don’t have a bunny photo to share, but here I am at home again, reenacting my Bunny Monday grin.
I miss seeing bunnies on my lawn and haven’t snapped a photo of one in a while, so went to Pixabay in search of an image. There were many wonderful photos, but this one jumped out as a fitting representation of our political predator-prey dynamic:
Right now, the view out my window looks like Fifty Shades of Dead. Everywhere I look, it’s nothing but dry-drab-brown. So I’m going to indulge in a little fantasy . .
Take that, reality!
Bunny, blooms, and throbbing green to the rescue.
I’m not buying the innocent act, little bunny.
You and I both know who destroyed the lawn next to the locust tree.
I’m not sure what put the light in this rabbit’s eye*, but I know where mine came from: today’s writing session was great fun. Even though I’m writing a first draft and, therefore, not overly hung up on language, I put down some good stuff. And that makes me very happy. Even after reading the following:
Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.
~ Anton Chekhov
Much of what I wrote today is more tell than show, but I still had a damned good time.
*okay, it was probably the sun
NOTE: I fully realize these photos are low-quality. However, because I’ve spent the day trying to schedule an emergency root canal AND because we just learned that someone stole our credit union debit card info in order to steal $1000 from our account, I’m thinking a Double Dose of Bunny is in order.
These were taken yesterday. I hope you enjoy.
NOTE #2: The body language of the bunny on the driveway hints at a continuing interest in CHASE, but I can’t vouch for what happened next.
It’s always a good day when a bunny hops into my line of vision. May you also be blessed with a similar sighting.
Wishing everyone a happy Bunny Monday!
When we were together in Florida last October, sister Katie spotted this Marsh Rabbit sitting next to the water in Kapok Park. No big deal, right? Just a bunny hanging out.
You know why? Because other residents of Kapok Park include these:
When I look at this photo, JAWS music plays in my head. (And yes, I know this is an alligator and not a shark.)
So, it’s actually a very big deal to be a small rabbit chillin’ in that habitat. And maybe there’s a lesson to be learned here: the environment is treacherous for that Marsh Rabbit, but she survives by being vigilant and standing her ground.
On this Bunny Monday and going forward, I aspire to do the same.
I miss seeing the rabbits around the neighborhood. Don’t know where they go in the winter, but it’s not my front yard. So here’s a photo from October: