Today I dreamed of summer. In honor of longer, warmer days, I rescued a few videos from the cold darkness of digital storage.
in the yard
More from the rabbit nest
The rabbit nest is empty now, a hollow pocket of memory lined with dirty hair and dead grass. Even so, the magic isn’t quite cold. It’s tempting to believe that every half-grown rabbit I see is one of “my” rabbits, to feel a warm connection with these creatures that are born and nursed in plain view, yet also in secrecy.
Chipmunks
A family of chipmunks lives in Mother’s yard. My experience with these tiny burrowers is limited, so I’ve been enjoying their company.
I am most fascinated with their reaction to gray squirrels that browse the yard’s maple trees. Whenever squirrels are around, a single chipmunk will bark a raucous, staccato alarm. I can’t decide what the alarm’s purpose might be, as the squirrels and other chipmunks seem to ignore it. Perhaps this guard is a unique individual, exhibiting a behavioral quirk that is politely ignored by everyone except me?
The Rabbit Nest
Earlier this summer, we found a rabbit nest in our back yard. The baby rabbits survived until old enough to leave their nest, but one was lost to a hawk within days of emergence.
I had been mesmerized by the rabbits’ secret nest, and I mourned the lost baby with helpless tears. I mourned, even though I understand and accept the necessary balance between rabbits and hawks, the fierce and inescapable truth that binds life to life.
Rae Spencer 