So, I’ll be the first to admit that since Jim passed the lawn would totally not pass muster with him. I admit it and I do the best I can. It’s become sort of a begrudging Zen thing with me, mowing that
Years and years ago—those of you who followed me on Smut Girl (my original blog) might remember—we had a pear tree that decided to just start dropping limbs. The first being on Jim’s
Jeep baby. So, the tree
guys came and said it had to come down. It had gotten ridiculously enormous
considering it was one of the soft wood pear trees that have caused many a
problem. And we figured before it dropped a limb on a person we should have it taken down.
Jim, being Jim, paid extra to have the stump removed. That’s the origin story of the accidental bunny habitat. As the years passed, sans tree, obviously the root system began to break down and rot. And we noticed it was sinking some where the tree had stood.
I really noticed it when he was in chemo. And considering I had about a bajillion things going on and barely had time to breathe, I stuck a stick in it with a red rag tied around it. Ya know…to say…don’t walk here.
Well, everyone and their mother (including Jim’s mother!) walked right over the damn thing anyway. But it really wasn’t that bad. Just a kind of divot. So, I didn’t worry too much.
Last summer the neighbor’s cat escaped (I originally typed her house escaped. I might have mentioned at the beginning of this blog that I was up at 5:15 this morning to drop girl child off at 6:15 for a field trip…but I ramble…) and I saw this woman walk right over my lawn and sort of dip where the stick was. Like she might fall. So that worried me. The following day I went and got the stones that were originally around the base of the tree and formed a ring so that no one would walk there—period.
A week later our trimmer broke. Such a shock! (not really, if you follow me on social media you know that just about every damn thing in my house broke last summer). And so many things had gone haywire/broken since he died and we were nearing winter, it wasn’t a priority. I was fine with looking like the crazy widow who had a stone circle containing…well, very tall grass and nothing else. LOL
Fast forward to this year. The damn grass is growing again (why does it insist on doing that? Can’t we just mow it once and be done?) and the grass in the circle has gotten very tall. The other day, I looked out to see this guy---
He sits in there, in his bunny sanctuary and eats the grass (hey, who needs a trimmer, am I right? Nature, baby!) and dandelions. He seems to feel very secure in there, except for when I mow, which I did today, this pic is from Friday so DO NOT JUDGE ME, PEOPLE! I figure I’ll leave the grass even when I do get a trimmer. Jim had a bunny out back that he used to talk to when he was smoking cigars. The rabbit became so accustomed to his presence and his voice, it would come right up on the patio and sit near his feet. I know it’s not the same bunny, but damn, I used to think that was the cutest thing.
I also figure I’ll leave it (or maybe plant a bush for the rabbits to actually hide under) because that hole, believe it or not, inspired my book Once Bitten Twice Shy. It literally opens with someone falling in the hole. And it was that damn hole I was talking about in the novel.
Thus ends the rambling blog about how I built and accidental bunny habitat. And how I think we’ll name him Petey the Second in honor of Jim’s original bunny buddy. This also acts as an official notice to all of you who have been under a rock and have not heard me bitch about how—I HATE MOWING THE LAWN!
p.s. Bonus excitement! My new melon slicer my aunt sent me (so I can have classy melons) and a baby pineapple. Because…baby pineapple!