–A butterfly graces equally the idyllic mountain meadow and the urban flower box.–
On a cedar fence post near Rabbit Lane an old sign announces “No Trespassing.” The letters were burned or carved into the worn and weathered plank. The sign has been cracked by the black head of a rusting iron nail driven into the cedar post. The sign has long ago lost any intimidating aspect, and it now resembles the endearing smile of a gap-toothed old man. Continue reading
–Small acts of kindness soften the soul.–
“Let’s go over to Harvey’s,” I suggested one Sunday afternoon soon after moving to the country house.
“Who’s Harvey?” asked Brian (8).
“Harvey is our neighbor,” I explained. “You’ll like his place. He has lots of animals.”
We walked down Church Road toward Rabbit Lane, past Russell’s arena, and turned up the dirt drive to Harvey’s log-sided house. No one answered my knock at the door, but I thought it would be alright if we looked around at Harvey’s animals. We smelled the animals before we saw them: skunk. No doubt about it. A wrinkled, water-stained sign wired to the cage read, Stay Away. Continue reading
Rabbit Lane 