You live in a garden. What will you be? A bluebird? A gnome? A hedgehog? A broken mosaic birdbath?

Dear You,
Rabbits, I can assure you, are nothing like Beatrix Potter’s interpretation. We DO enjoy entering your garden, though. I like yours so much that I have taken up residence here. I won’t tell you where my burrow is, but I do have some things I want to say about this sublime garden that you work so hard on and is so perfect as my home.
I know you have seen me sunning myself in the early evening, cleaning my face and nibbling on grasses and dandelions. I hope you are not plotting a coup to remove me. Rabbits seem to be universally reviled by gardeners, but give pause: I may do you some good. I am an elderly boy, not interested in the ladies, but still territorial, so I will keep other rabbits away, and won’t be littering your garden with kits. My favorite item is the dandelions that keep cropping up here and there, and I do so appreciate the organic approach you take. You are the only one in the area with comfrey, which, while I’m sure you planted it to attract bees, also is very soothing to delicate rabbit tummies. I couldn’t possibly put a dent in the comfrey, it is indestructible. As for the raspberry patch, all I want is a few leaves, and again couldn’t put a dent in your magnificent crop. Digging is enjoyable, but actually unearthing a carrot is a bit much for my old bones. Let’s declare a truce before the war, shall we? You in your sunhat and floral gloves, me with my adorable hippity-hop, we enjoy each other, don’t we? Let’s keep it that way.


Ol’Man Wabbit

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