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I freely admit, my perspective is probably unique.  After all, I’m not sure many people would look at your average variety of bunny rabbit and see a miniature deer munching in their garden.  Especially if, said little varmint is munching on their strawberries, lettuces, or partaking of an early crop of carrots, but since I have no garden (well, I have a small container garden, but that doesn’t quite count), my viewpoint on these furry little creatures is a bit singular.

It all began about a year ago, when the weather turned colder and the sweet green grass of the lawn began to fade.  Every year I put out bird-feeders as Autumn advances; providing for the winter residents, whether they be feathered or furry.  Sure, I get hordes of sparrows, clusters of cardinals, and a smattering of adorable little fellows in tufted titmouse flannels, chickadee tuxedos, nuthatch jazzblues and even the occasional woodpecker stripes, but the feast of dried fruits, nuts and seeds also attracts squirrels and rabbits.  And, although those rascally squirrels do feast, (and feast…and feast!) (not to mention perform Olympian acrobatics in order to feast!) no, I don’t mind, not at all.

So, winter advanced and then retreated, and all the garden creatures eated (LOL sorry, but it rhymed!) Yet when spring unfurled her wings of grace, and the bird-feeders disappeared from the place ( I can’t help it, honestly!) I tried to wean my garden gazelles from their daily handful of apples, but it was not meant to be.  Impossible, really.  After all, when little hopping treasures of sweetly expectant faces rush to your doorstep, or at least to the margins of your back porch, as soon as you go outside and gaze up at you with blinking silent queries of “Do you have apples today, Miss?” “Any Yummies for our tummies?” and the like, how can a heart resist?

Mine can’t in any event.  So, although the season of plenty is upon us and the green grasses are lush and delicious (well, at least their expressions seem to say as much), and there are plenty of gardens in which these miniature gazelles might graze, I still cut half an apple each day into bite sized pieces, go outside after I get home from work, and greet my little friends with a gentle,  “Here you go bunners!”   And invariably, the several who are always awaiting my offering, gaze up at me quietly, and whisper a quiet, yet entirely perceivable thank you, before scampering to enjoy the fruit of harmony.

And nothing could be sweeter.

Well, maybe this …