Tonight, Wednesday night, that signals a week half done shall be like any other and by the early evening I shall be making my way through the leafy suburb that is Endingly where shiny new cars cool in pristine driveways separated by neatly manicured lawns with their pretty coloured borders and gleam in the dazzling sunshine as another day gives way to dusk. A narrow strip of grassland dotted with daisies and buttercups and a brook running along the far edge marks the boundary of this exclusive microcosm of well heeled achievers and, if one looks carefully, in grass that is knee-high to rabbit, a pair of long black ears of what was probably some child's pet can be seen grazing in the shadow of dwarf maples and cherry trees.
He does seem a lot smaller than the grey wild ones that populate this small web of avenues and closes but he does okay. Maybe, like those trees that shelter him, he's one of those dwarf varieties. He'll raise is head and look my way as I pass by. He hops along at a leisurely pace totally untroubled by my presence browsing and pausing only to nibble as and when he chooses. I do wonder how he'll fare when summer ends, who knows? Maybe he has a hutch to go to with a warm bed of hay and a regular supply of oats, that's if the dreaded myxomatosis doesn't get him first, and maybe his owners got him inoculated before he jumped ship. but that's for another time, right now he really is "in clover" so hop along little rabbit, hop along.
Happy daze and why? Why not? Must be my age. Whatever.