Saturday, August 05, 2006
Bunny Talk
I never saw mist in Chicago.
When my job here started two weeks ago, I was forced to get up earlier to work out. I wear a reflective belt and small flashlight when walking along Round Hill because it’s still dim outside. As the sun slowly lights the sky, long swathes of mist hang over the open fields. It’s a joyous feeling and I want to run across those fields and see if the mist will cling to me . . . but I don’t because there are ticks.
It’s beautiful out here, even when it hits 103 with humidity you can cut with a chain saw. My mom’s crepe myrtles are finally coming out. The magnolia is shooting up, but no blooms, yet. The cement ducks on the front porch change outfits every month. We have two regular visitors of the bunny persuasion. Dubbed ‘Big’ Bunny and ‘Little’ Bunny, Big Bunny lives in the woods and sticks to eating my Dad’s vegetables and clover if my Mom holds off mowing long enough for it to sprout. Little Bunny lives near the drive and enjoys dandelions and watching us drive in and out.
‘Tis a quiet life, yes. The Movie Gallery doesn’t have any Bollywood, not even "Bend it Like Beckham." I am bereft. I’ve even been reading mysteries—real ones, not the kind where the terrified heroine is pictured flying across the heath in a filmy nightgown with an ominous castle in the background (picture may or may not include darkly handsome man in breeches). Anyways, I’m catching up on my Miss Marple.
It’s not so bad. In fact, there is a great deal of good. I didn’t realize how much pressure I was under in Chicago until I came here. Apparently that is what it means to be independent. That’s why people go back to living with their families or they get married. It’s less stressful if someone is there to help you face life.
I’ll be on my own soon enough and I may never have this opportunity to be with my parents again. So I’ll water the tomatoes, talk to the rabbits, and make the most of life.
When my job here started two weeks ago, I was forced to get up earlier to work out. I wear a reflective belt and small flashlight when walking along Round Hill because it’s still dim outside. As the sun slowly lights the sky, long swathes of mist hang over the open fields. It’s a joyous feeling and I want to run across those fields and see if the mist will cling to me . . . but I don’t because there are ticks.
It’s beautiful out here, even when it hits 103 with humidity you can cut with a chain saw. My mom’s crepe myrtles are finally coming out. The magnolia is shooting up, but no blooms, yet. The cement ducks on the front porch change outfits every month. We have two regular visitors of the bunny persuasion. Dubbed ‘Big’ Bunny and ‘Little’ Bunny, Big Bunny lives in the woods and sticks to eating my Dad’s vegetables and clover if my Mom holds off mowing long enough for it to sprout. Little Bunny lives near the drive and enjoys dandelions and watching us drive in and out.
‘Tis a quiet life, yes. The Movie Gallery doesn’t have any Bollywood, not even "Bend it Like Beckham." I am bereft. I’ve even been reading mysteries—real ones, not the kind where the terrified heroine is pictured flying across the heath in a filmy nightgown with an ominous castle in the background (picture may or may not include darkly handsome man in breeches). Anyways, I’m catching up on my Miss Marple.
It’s not so bad. In fact, there is a great deal of good. I didn’t realize how much pressure I was under in Chicago until I came here. Apparently that is what it means to be independent. That’s why people go back to living with their families or they get married. It’s less stressful if someone is there to help you face life.
I’ll be on my own soon enough and I may never have this opportunity to be with my parents again. So I’ll water the tomatoes, talk to the rabbits, and make the most of life.
