Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Spring!


When I was little, my Aunt Tootie sent me a book (I still have it) called The Important Book, by Margaret Wise Brown.

When I grew up and had kids, I discovered a Little Golden Book by the same author called Home for a Bunny.

It quickly became a favorite of my children, one I read to them more times than I could count. (I know this, because after 28 years, I can still tell it verbatim, in a sing-song voice).


Here are the words, in all their glory:

Home for a Bunny


Spring! Spring! Spring! Sang the robin.

Spring! Sang the frog.

Spring! Sang the groundhog.

It was Spring.

The leaves burst out, the flowers burst out,

and robins burst out of their eggs.

It was Spring.

In the Spring a bunny came down the road.

He was going to find a home of his own.

A home for a bunny, a home of his own, where would a bunny find a home?

Down the road and down the road and

down the road he went until

He met a robin.

Where is your home? He asked the robin.

Here, sang the robin, here in this nest is my home.

Here, here, here sang the little robins, here is our home.

Not for me, said the bunny. I would fall out of a nest. I would fall on the ground.

So the bunny went on looking for a home.

Where is your home? He asked the frog.

Wog, wog, wog, sang the frog. Here is my home, down in the water, down under the bog.

Not for me said the bunny, down in the water I would drown in a bog.

So the bunny went on looking for a home.

Where is your home? He asked the groundhog.

Here, said the groundhog, here in this log is my home.

Can I come in? asked the bunny.

No, you can’t come in my log, said the groundhog.

So the bunny went on looking for a home.

A home for a bunny, a home of his own, where would a bunny find a home?

Down the road and down the road and down the road he went until

He met a bunny.

Where is your home? He asked the bunny.

Here, said the bunny, under this rock, under this stone, down under the ground.

Here is my home.

Can I come in? asked the bunny.

Yes, said the bunny.

So he did, and that was his home.


However, I have discovered, since living in Copperton, that the surest sign of Spring is not a sweet little bunny out looking for a new home...

It is the left-behind evidence that deer invade my yard at night, munching down and destroying every sprouting tulip in sight. Some are even ripped out of the ground, half-eaten and left for me to find the next morning.

It is almost as if they are saying,

"Ninny-ninny-poo-poo, I ate your tulips! I double dare you to plant tomatoes, 'cause I'll eat them too!"

So, Happy Spring, Spring, Spring! to all of you, and may the deer forget that your yard exists.