Thursday, October 17, 2013

Mr. McGregor and the Rabbits of Grammy's Garden

June 4, 2013-  "This morning when we awoke, there was a little rabbit in Grammy's garden." -Xian's American Journal
We watched it from behind the big sliding glass patio window in the basement, laying on bouncy air mattresses wrapped in soft warm sleeping bags.  The girls so excited... trying to hold their emotions and not scare the little creature away.
Afterward, just as the sun was rising and the moon still hung overhead, as I was standing in the upstairs kitchen in my slippers stirring pancake batter and eggs, my quickly growing daughters snuck carrot slices and little cut up chunks of cucumber, and headed out into Grammy's garden to feed their new friend.
They nicknamed him... 'Peter the Rabbit.'
 "We went to the storage unit and saw all our old stuff.  Then we went to Colton and pitched a tent outside.  We are going to sleep outside tonight under the stars..."  -Xian's American Journal
 "We walked out into the grass to see the edge of the field.  This is where Aunt Lisa dumps the dead goats.  She says she is feeding the coyotes."  -Xian's American Journal
We sat in the grass and I pulled out a copy of Beatrix Potter from my back pocket and there by the old wire fence we read more than a few tales.  The girls read so beautifully now.  I just hand them the book and they fly.
 "We picked flowers for Grammy."  -Xian's American Journal
 "Rebekah put the flowers in a tissue box."  -Xian's American Journal
"I kept mine sticky in my hands."  -Xian's American Journal
It rained that afternoon.  Good old genuine Oregon liquid sun!  Afterward we climbed to the top of the house and traced the entire arch of a rainbow through the sky.  When do you ever see an entire rainbow from start to finish?
That night at dinner, when the girls were telling about the rabbits, their grandfather laughed.  He'd found their den a few months ago tucked neatly in a lavender sage, saw dozens of the infant bunnies sweetly laying atop one another so fury and cute.  Perfect little souls fast asleep.  He'd thought to take a shovel and murder them where they lay.  Crush and bury them deep in the garden as a warning to any other trespassing critters. These are the days he's glad he didn't.  Of course, he's overrun with silly Flopsies and Mopsies now, but who's counting?

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