Winter is hard on me. Don't get me wrong--I enjoy a good yummy snow storm. I enjoy the quietness of a winter day. I love snowshoeing and skiing and snowmobiling. I love hunkering down with a thick blanket and a good book while a mad, crazy blizzard rages outside. But after the rush of a busy fall and the craziness of the holidays and seasonal orders, I find myself sinking into a deep funk after Christmas. I think January through April are the hardest times of the year for me. I claw my way out of darkness every day searching for some semblance of a routine to get me through to the next morning. It's rough. I don't feel anything like my usual self.
That's part of the reason I anticipate spring with such glee. I can't wait for the days to start growing, for my ferns to begin their long arching stretch toward the sun, for the birds to return and greet me each morning, and for the blossoms to unfold and reveal their magnificence. I love hearing children's laughter as they dare to venture into the outdoors once again. I love the feeling of the sun on my face. I love seeing all of the new life that slowly spreads across the once barren artic tundra. It delights me to no end. This spring brought a wonderful new surprise.
If this doesn't melt your heart, then you must be completely lacking in softness and affection for all things small and loveable and furry and too cute...
About a week ago, I noticed a rabbit hanging out in our yard. This isn't TOO abnormal in that this area does have its fair share of rabbits. However, we have two large dogs, both of which obsess about small furry things that dash about in a teasing manner. This has turned our yard into a mostly small-furry-animal-free zone. Only the bravest of squirrels dare cross the threshold into an up close and personal--not to mention potentially fatal--version of "When Good Pets Go Bad."
So there she was...just sitting there, huddled up against the house. I watched her for a minute, and then I came in the house and called Rit. I thought it was so odd that a rabbit was hanging out in our yard that I had to a share the shock of it all. The next time I looked, the rabbit was gone. Since that day, I always look in the same place for her. I would hate for the dogs to catch sight of her before I did. Much screaming and barking and fur-flying would ensue and it would take me weeks to recover from the horror.
I have had my fair share of dead-animals-in-my-yard experiences growing up. We had a pet chicken named Gloria who met with an untimely demise. And then there were the baby chicks I was raising, which were slaughtered by my own dog while I was at church one Sunday. Not to mention the time my pet kitty was hiding in the lawn mower when my sister attempted to mow the lawn. All quite scarring. But I LOVE animals. With my healthy stash of animal death horror stories, one would think that I have developed a thick skin when it comes to this sort of thing. But no. I still choke up when I see a poor deer or raccoon by the side of the road, struck down in the prime of its life. I can't even handle disposing of the little songbirds that mistake our front window for a lush forest. Any time I hear that sickening thump, I immediately dart out front to see if the little fella needs CPR or crutches...perhaps an aspirin.
As I approached the planting bed this afternoon, my eyes settled on the same spot in search of a furry little ball. Instead, I was greeted by a tiny little pile of dark eyes, twitching noses and perfect pairs of ears. My delight was palpable.
"I will hold you and kiss you and stroke you and call you George."
I think I've counted six little ones, but such a mass can be hard to separate into individual palm-size bunnies. I love them already, but I am refraining from touching them or getting too close. I'd hate to throw a wrench into the whole circle of life thing. I was so excited that I've already shared the news with my mail carrier, the incomparable Lynn; my neighbor, Michelle; and anyone else who will hold still and feign interest long enough.
LATER:
Well, Otto, in all of her wild wisdom and tracking prowess, has discovered that something is amiss in the yard. I've talked with her about how devastated I would be and how long it would take me to forgive her should she harm the Georges in any way. She doesn't seem to care much. I'm keeping her far, far away until they find their way out of their cubby. She is wolf-like after all. The call of the wild runs through her veins.
Here's a photo of cuteness incarnate...I give you the Georges:
I'm taking the appearance of these new little lives as a sign. It's going to be a great summer.
I love the spring! LOVE IT! I spent today in my own personal version of heaven. A kind friend was good enough to share some of her amazingly healthy perennials with us. We spent some time with her this morning gathering up the lovelies and picking up a few annuals for the planters and hanging baskets. YUM!
Tonight my fingers are crossed, hoping that all of the transplants we welcomed today will brighten back up and embrace their new home. Tomorrow brings a long work day spent in the studio with orders to fill. No complaints.
I hope everyone had an equally relaxing weekend and enjoyed time spent with family and friends.
