Dear reader, something you may have gleaned from reading this blog is that I don't exactly score high marks in keeping up with the times. As in, the calendar year marches to a certain beat of the drum, while I am off in the corner doing interpretive movements.
It's not something I'm necessarily proud of; in fact, it is a quality I'm in constant struggle to overcome, or at least to keep at bay. Or at the very least, to minimize the effect of its totalitarian regime upon the lives of the people I love.
So it shouldn't surprise you to know there are still a few bunnies wandering about my house, souvenirs of the spring season~mild, docile companions who pose such minor demands upon my attention that it would seem while Easter has come and gone, yet I have forgotten to put them away.
But it isn't a clear-cut case of forgetting, I should say. I do believe there is sentiment involved, as well.
For example, some bunnies are edible, and who can help but feel attached to those?
Some are simply too fabulous not to have their moment in the sun.
And others are noble and brave.
It is apparent to me, at least, that bunnies, along with various and sundry souvenirs of the season, are meant to be put away in increments, darling.
Let Time march as it will; this way is much cozier.
And when a few must be retired here and there, how good it feels to know they are keeping one another company in the darkness!
Two rabbits alone amongst the crystal and fine china...I wonder what fun awaits the next time I come fetch them from the cupboard?