
Our bunny.
Okay, this post has nothing to do with music. And it doesn’t have anything very obvious to do with theater or the arts. But this little brown bunny in our backyard has captured our attention like a reality show.
Where’s its mate or its parents? No idea.
Where does it hide out when it’s not hopping — or dashing like, well, a bunny out of hell — around the yard, nibbling on broadleaf weeds? Somewhere in the old stone retaining wall.
Tonight the bunny was in the driveway, just a few inches from the grass, but on the macadam in front of the garage. I drove in and it — he? she? — took off in a puff of fluffy white tail.