No anxiety can be ours
The God of the Elements
The King of the Elements
The Spirit of the Elements
Closes over us eternally
nuzzles
Spring has arrived in East Texas. Signs of it are everywhere I look. Flowers. Butterflies. A thousand shades of green. Greta. And of course, this little guy. He/she is not quite a week old. Baby bunnies are like kittens. It’s nearly impossible to tell their gender with accuracy for at least a month. He entered the world Tuesday April 4 after dark. I guess it really began a few weeks ago. I became suspicious when I caught our dog Jack intensely focused on one particular spot of the back porch. Days later I watched as he chased something from the yard into that very spot. Both bodies were moving far too fast to decide what our new friend might be but I have had rabbits in the yard before so it was a guess in the right direction. A few more days later I was returning from an evening walk. As usual I stood at the open gate waiting for the dogs to trickle in one by one rather like a kindergarten teacher accounting for every little one coming in from the playground, hot and messy and tired. Jack lingered at the edge of the woods before he began to run around in odd circles seemingly alone in the tall grass. Soon he was headed straight for me and the open gate. Good boy Jack! Wait… Before him as fast as lightning a wild bunny came rip-roaring through the gate nearly running over the top of my foot. It sailed past me and straight to its safe spot…you guessed it…under the porch. So, definitely a bunny under there. That’s when I began to worry and hope beyond hope that it was Not an expectant female. For the life of me I can’t imagine why she would want to nest in a yard with four large dogs. Nevertheless, she Was expectant and Did nest inside the fence! How do I know? Well, Tuesday night Jack brought this little guy into the house, brand new. Now, Jack isn’t bad. He’s a wonderful dog who simply has a great nose and wants to play. 
With everything. To his mind he had found a fabulous new toy. Although the mother had been seen diving under the porch more than once, locating a nest wouldn’t be nearly that easy especially in the dark. Mother rabbits are not very attentive to their young. They only visit the nest twice a day to feed the babies but otherwise steer clear of it so as not to attract potential predators like Jack. All those times she lead Jack to the porch was probably a mother’s way of keeping his attention on her and away from where she would give birth and keep her babies. The bunny seemed newborn and fragile but otherwise unharmed.
First I made certain that Jack wouldn’t be able to get out for the rest of the night. Next I lined a small deep basket with a towel and some fleece that I bundled around him for warmth. Then waited for morning. He made it through the night. Check! 
I walked a slow path around the yard searching for signs of the nest or more babies. I found both. Rabbits nest on the ground almost in plain sight. It’s bizarre how trusting they are and how we don’t stumble upon their nests more often. A mother pulls back some leaf litter adds some of her own fur for warmth and softness, places the babies in and covers them lightly. Then she leaves. That’s it. And like I already said, she only checks on the nest twice a day. It would be futile to put a helpless baby bunny back into a place Jack already knew about. So, there I was with a new baby to care for. I did find another one. He had been removed from the nest and left elsewhere in the yard uncovered and exposed to the chill of the night. I provided him with the love and warmth that I could. He refused to eat and the night’s exposure was too much. He didn’t survive the day. So much sadness right at the beginning. But this one had a strength about him to keep on. He accepted me as a surrogate mother. 
He sucked down his special formula fidgety but adapting to an eye dropper instead of a mother’s nipple. Hunger won out over the oddity of it I suppose. He relieved himself Really Well! That’s so important with a baby like him. If plenty comes out then you can rest knowing that plenty is getting in. So many fun things to think about! In less than a week he’s become a sizable part of my thoughts and of my days. Even now as I write his basket is nearby so that I can peer in pull back the fleece and assure my fretful heart that all is still well. He knows the sound of me, the scent of me and perks up his tiny ears and wiggles his tiny nose when I come near. When Jack brought him in on Tuesday night I was afraid. I went through this last spring. It was touch and go for days on end. That little one didn’t make it. I failed. I failed period. I failed him. I cried…for him, for what might have been, for the loss of a tiny life that I came to love. I know that wild bunnies are very hard to raise and it probably had nothing to do with anything that I did or didn’t do. But knowing a thing and believing it in your heart are two different things. So, when this baby found his way into my life and my days I was afraid. The truth is I still am. He’s far from out of the woods yet. I keep on. I hope. I open my heart and offer him the love that I have doing the best I can to help him live. I wonder if his own mother is feeling lost and lonesome. There is already talk of a small piece of fencing that might allow her to enter but keep out Jack if she should choose to nest again in this new favorite spot. The baby’s sweet days have a simple structure. Eat and be loved. On my end there’s more to it than that. Prepare formula. Clean and sanitize all of his eating and formula supplies. Feed him slowly at his own pace. Clean him. Clean his supplies. check. check. check. We humans love to score and to tally. We love to make lists and cross things off when accomplished. He ate. He urinated. He slept. check. check. check. Success! Life isn’t a giant score card. My life isn’t and neither is his. One cannot tally everything and why would you even want to. Success cannot be measured in check marks. I love the way he reaches for the sound of my voice. I love the way he licks his lips. I love the way he drinks his milk when he’s hungry. I love the way he nuzzles against the warmth of me when his tummy is full and he’s ready to fall back asleep. 
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know if he will make it. Although everything that I don’t know makes me afraid, I will keep on. Choosing to love him and care for him. And if another tiny life should find its way to me in a week or in a year, I will do all of this again in spite of the fear. Life isn’t about check marks or crossing things off a list. Life is about how much love you give. Life is in the nuzzles.
At the heart of it
Speed racer
Did you watch Speed Racer when you were a kid? Come on fess up, which character did you want to be? This little racer is as thin as a pencil but pretty fast. I’ve seen them booking it across the forest floor. He’s not dangerous at all, completely non venomous. 
Even though he’s fast, he seems to know he’s better off to sit still when the dogs and I pass by. He must not have an interesting smell because they don’t bother him at all. We step over and are on our way. All good. Um…I liked Speed…because seriously…who doesn’t want to drive the Mach5?!
Night slips away
Night slips away as Dawn softly brightens 
We wander through our dreams only returning with moments we don’t quite understand 
Light of day doesn’t always bring clarity 
I wonder if deep night and sweet day are lonesome in their search for each other 
Soulmates bound by sky. Forever separated by time. 
Finding comfort in being always at the edge of one another.
Greta
Yesterday, I posted a photo of a baby tortoise whom I found on the forest floor. Adorable, right? He’s wonderful because he’s tiny, miniaturized, new. Honestly though, I think he looks rather grumpy. I can imagine him saying – who said you could touch me, why are you touching me, seriously, stop touching me. So, he’s adorable and new and grumpy. He’s taken on quite a personality in so short a time hasn’t he? It sounds like a children’s story. The Grumpy Tortoise. hmmm. Yesterday I had no words to go with my little friend, only a couple of images that moved me. I posted her anyway and waited. 
Let Go and Trust. Today she is the best place to begin… This morning I feel as if I could write all day long. No struggling for words. My dilemma is how to sort them out and narrow them down to make some sense out of the madcap mess of thoughts! I’m trying to figure out wordpress. Why am I doing this? A place to share my photos? Or a story? Is it even about sharing? To say what I want to I have to make myself forget that someone may read this and instead I have to just write. Otherwise I lose something. Although it probably doesn’t seem like it, I do go back and read over what I’ve written, adding and subtracting to make it somewhat coherent. You see, I write the way I think, here to there and back again. all over the place. I had years of fantastic teachers! I know what good grammar looks like and punctuation too. It takes a noun and a verb to make a complete sentence. Commas should be used thus and such. Have you ever heard the expression – one must first learn all of the rules before one can break them? Breaking the rules is where creativity comes to play. Think Picasso! Even Da Vinci broke the rules of his own age! Now, I am neither Picasso nor Da Vinci by a long shot. I only write as I think, placing commas where they make the most sense to me. A fragment for simplicity or emphasis. It all sounds just right to me. I wonder though if it’s difficult for someone else to follow. Soon enough in these posts I’ll be repeating myself. Favorite words and expressions used time and again. We all have patterns. That’s how comedians become so successful. They study a person until they locate their patterns. And we the audience, howl with laughter at how well they’ve managed it. I am learning what wordpress will be to me and for me. Notice I say wordpress and not blog. I am not a blogger. I do not blog. I don’t even like blogging. Wait, what? It’s the word. Blog. Ugh! I will wordpress, write, post or even ponder. But, I will Not Blog. I refuse. I mentioned my aversion to the word blog to my son who also writes on wordpress and he agreed mightily. In fact, his objections were far more colorful and emphatic than mine. I’ll simply say that I prefer the word wordpress to blog because blogging sounds like some sort of despicable thing that I have no desire to do. Laughing? I hope so. Words!! Oh, how they can move me…providence, magnificent, whatsamawhosit… three words that inspire me one by one to hope, imagine and laugh. So many wonderful possibilities. 
Oh! I just now realized my baby tortoise is indeed a girl. Her name must be Greta. Grumpy Greta! Time for me to go. I’ve written enough to ease my mind. I wordpress because I write and I write because I love words… I doubt I’ll stop pondering why this is anytime soon but it probably is just that easy.
P. S. The photos of the adult female laying eggs were taken two years ago when I was fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time. Also blessedly no dogs were interested in Ms Tortoise’s moment of grace.
Wednesday’s wonder
Huckleberry
S.S. Minnow
Ok, so off we went, two cohorts in crime. Well, more adventure than crime…giggles. We shuffled off to Buffalo to get a great coffee and a new read straight from The Horse’s Mouth. Ask for Kaitlin. Coffee or tea, hot or cold, she’s got it covered. A few doors down we ended our search for the perfect tank at Heart and Home. Success! Sorry guys, girls only. Unless you’re hunting the perfect tank too. In which case, enjoy! Across the street the trains run fast and often enough to remind you that you’re in small town America. On our way back to Noonday we stopped off in Palestine where we found ourselves the tallest meringue in East Texas atop the finest chocolate pie west of the Mississippi. 
If you’re looking for pie, check out The Oxbow bakery. By the slice or by the pie. Scrumdillyumptious! I highly recommend the sinful blueberry banana, one friend, one slice, two forks. Sweet! We spotted the S.S. Minnow shipwrecked on the side of the road. No fooling. There she was just hanging around with no signs of Gilligan or the Skipper anywhere. Perhaps they were just up the road a piece checking out the Dulcimer Festival. I swanee if we had more time we would have stopped there as well. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a Dulcimer much less a Dulcimer festival. It rained like the dickens all day but that didn’t stop us from having a swell time. Til we meet again, Happy Trails!
ellie894 