Home Iva's Input Hoppin’ Down the Bunny Trail

Hoppin’ Down the Bunny Trail

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Most interesting Easter in a while. Got an invitation to brunch which I had to turn down because it landed smack in the middle of church, which ran long on account of technical difficulties to start with, then just because it’s Easter, involving all sorts of “pomp & circumstance” and majorly long hymns of celebration (Charles Wesley never could let a good tune go–you don’t want to even think about how many verses there are to the one named “O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing”; not quite one verse per tongue, but close.), plus music par excellence, from both the chancel choir and the handbells, and a riff on baptism that one does not see every Sunday–Hey, It’s Easter, why not hit all the stops?

My mother used to sometimes refuse to go to church on Christmas or Easter, because, she said, the non-regulars would think that she only came on “high holidays” like them. Ma used to be pretty regular, if only to sit down in the congregation and keep an eye on my father, who sat high up in the choir loft in the bass seats and tended to get a little sleepy when the sermons ran long; he could have gone down like a log, scattering altos as he went. Never happened though, I think he was held up purely by her vigilance.

Anyway, it was a fine day, and I was able to move on to another family dinner in the neighborhood. Reminded me of home, sorta…kids out playing in the grass & sunshine, adults keeping an eye out, both near and far, “kids’ table”, grown-ups table, homemade food (Let me tell you about my recipe for rolls, sometime), conversation, conversation, conversation (It wasn’t sacramental wine either). Good time was had by all, even the five-month-old who grinned and flirted with the whole company, not just her grandpa. Way to have a Spring holiday! Especially since we’ve had so many false starts which lapsed back into rainy Winter with amazing regularity. Speaking of which, I heard some newscast mentioning the possibility of a shortage of maple syrup because of the behavior of the weather in certain locales; not enough warm days with cold nights to encourage the up & down travels of the sap in maple trees. Stock up now, or you’ll have to settle for imported Canadian syrup (Quebec is the world leader in maple production but they had a scandal awhile back–The Great Maple Syrup Heist–about ten years ago, when a gang managed to purloin syrup from storage and sell the goods (literally “good”) on the black market. Quite an operation, hauling off fifty-five gallon barrels and emptying them, then returning the barrels so no one would notice…until someone did.)

Where was I?

Oh yeah, enjoyable Easter Day. Never did get a chocolate bunny, not a marshmallow one, not a hollow one, nor a peanut butter one, not anything of the sort. That’s a first. Will have to make up for it somehow. Peeps will go on sale any minute now, though I just saw a news item which claimed that the Just Born people–they make peeps–will have to stop using a particular red dye in their confections–’bout time too–but who knows what that will do to the indescribable taste of those sugar bombs. Somebody out there is also making totally NOT marshmallow chicks in peeps flavor. Weird!

And the Porch Kitties are mad at me because their kitty kondos are still cold, while the temps have dropped down into the thirties or lower. Not my fault! It seems that the tree branches which mutilated the front porch also knocked out the electricity to all of the outlets there. I didn’t even notice until I spotted the electric clock sitting dead next to the rocking chair. Not a single outlet was working, so I could not even switch the plugs or anything. Strange thing # 2 : the outlets on the back porch are also out, even though I don’t think that they have any wiring in common. Thank goodness the insurance adjuster is coming on Tuesday. I have not made any attempt whatsoever to clean up any of the damage (There’s a shocker for ya!) until this dude gets here. I have pictures and dramatic descriptions (mostly true) of the occasion and how the whole neighborhood has been keeping an eye out for my well-being. I also have that slice of the tree trunk propped up against the mailbox to back up my story about the event. Anybody want to volunteer to count the growth rings so we can make an estimate of how long that big ol’ thing had been standing there. I’m going to try to preserve it as an artifact of some sort…like me.

Next, looking for somebody to take down the other big guys around our two houses before the next windstorm. I do not need to go through this again.

Iva Walker

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