The Rabbit Hour

Just in case you are wondering, 4:52 a.m. to 5:52 a.m. seems to be a good hour to spot rabbits from our living room window.

I slept through the Rabbit Hour yesterday morning. Due to a severe case of exhaustion, brought on by *too much kitchen time the prior evening, I could not budge out of bed until almost 5:49 a.m. (our alarm system's hallway monitor lets me keep tabs on such important events). I opened the blinds, only to find one speeding rabbit running like its life depended on it. Sure enough, a dog and his dog walker soon appeared. That was the first and last rabbit sighting of the day.

Thanks to aches and discomforts from a day of moving and shaking yesterday, I woke up this morning at 4:52 with the sole purpose of taking a pain killer and going back to bed to see if it worked its magic. What happened instead, was finding a rabbit nibbling on the food under our fir tree. When it departed, I did a few of my morning chores and by the time I returned to the window, the Rabbit Parade was in full procession.

The seven rabbits I saw a few mornings ago were not a dream or a mirage. They are real. I believe they may have a home a little south of us. They seem to come from that direction. Then again, they tend to come from all directions once they are on the move.

Rabbits, rabbits and more rabbits. Be still my beating heart. I think I am in heaven ...

On a related note, I am convinced that the mating season has arrived, which may be the reason I am spotting these rabbits en masse [my fingers typed these words and then I had to google the definition: "in a group; all together", which is exactly what I meant to say]. Plus on at least two occasions I was convinced I would witness the mating ritual right in front of my eyes.

I furthered my investigation to discover jack rabbits mating season in cold climates such as ours, is from December to September. The gestation period is an average of 43 days and at about 21 days old, the juvenile rabbits start to venture out on their own. The average litter size is five. Now, assuming half of the rabbits I have recently witnessed in our neighborhood are female, that equals a heck of a lot of rabbits due to make a public appearance in approximately nine weeks.

When I told my son about the rabbit count a few days ago, he looked at me and asked, "Do you think you had anything to do with that?"

Hey, a rabbit's gotta eat. All I did was sprinkle a little nourishment under our fir tree so I could help them through a long, cold winter. The rabbits existed long before I started feeding them. Did they migrate from other neighborhoods once word got out about this ready food supply? Only the rabbits know for sure ...

*Definition: "Too much time in the kitchen" - providing a home cooked meal + preparation for my son's pot luck supper the following day + simmering chicken soup broth + dealing with the aftermath of a trip to Costco + dishes, dishes and more dirty dishes after the supper hour

Rabbits, Rabbits and More Rabbits

My eyes popped open at 5:30 this morning. My thought process went something like this ...

5:30 is too early for a Saturday ...
2% power on my cell phone ...
I need to get my phone charger so I can watch Netflix on my phone in bed ...

So I did what I always, always do any time I stand up to do something once the twilight hours roll around. I peeked out the living room blinds to see if I could spot a rabbit.

A rabbit was nibbling on the food under our fir tree. I opened the blinds, settled in on the love seat beside the window and just enjoyed watching the rabbit.

Lately, where there has been one rabbit in full view, a second rabbit seems to be hiding in plain sight close by. One time, a third rabbit joined the pair I spotted. So I settled in, scouring the area for anything that resembled a snow clump that may or may not move.

Nothing.

My rabbit hopped off and no others joined it. I gazed into the street for a short while before I thought I may as well toss in a load of laundry while I was up and about.

I did a few minor tasks and glanced out the window again. Sure enough. A rabbit was on our street, faced towards our house. I sat down and got comfortable, hopeful the rabbit may have a friend close by.

This time, I was not disappeared. Before long, a second rabbit hopped into view. I was pleased with this turn of events and thanked my lucky stars for my almost dead cell phone battery which put me at the right place at the right time.

Then a third rabbit joined the first two. My heart was jumping for joy. Three rabbits! How much better could a person start the day?! Three rabbits all together, right in front of me.

One rabbit headed west and the other two started to follow. The first rabbit was completely out of sight when ... one ... two ... three ... four ... ... ... and even a fifth rabbit hopped in from the south. One after another. The two remaining rabbits from my initial rabbit sighting turned around and joined the group and there were SEVEN rabbits all in one eyeful.

These rabbits chased each other; three of them hopped upon a neighbor's hill of snow hill and took in the view; they frolicked; they jumped; one rolled around on the street in front of me; while most of them took a turn at the feeding station under our fir tree.

The rabbits would split off in pairs or threesomes, run off into a yard, then reappear. They headed westward for a while, they circled back and came back my direction and eventually most of them headed down the street in a southward direction before they disappeared out of sight.

Seven rabbits!!! Seven! And I'm certain there is an eighth. The rabbit that headed west never came back into sight and all the "new" rabbits came from the opposite direction.

Potentially, we have a minimum of eight adult rabbits living in or around our street. Eight! I was thrilled to tears when I could have swore I saw two pairs of rabbits a while ago. "That means baby rabbits in the spring!!!"

Eight adult rabbits? We may have a little population explosion here in our neck of the woods. I sure hope this doesn't entice any predators our way.

Kitty Quiet Time

I love when I'm home to enjoy quiet time with our cats ...

The house becomes very still in and around 1:00 and I enjoy seeking out our cats to find them in their preferred resting spot for the day.

Quiet time goes on. 

With or without my daycare. 

My daycare kitties are holding space for this sacred time. 

I love the days when I can join them in their place in the sun.

Something is in the Air (it may be change)

Something is about to change. I can feel it in my bones ...

I may have mislabeled the feeling as anxiety. I put words to it as I spoke aloud yesterday morning. "I feel like my fight or flight mode has been activated."

My vivid dream about Mom wandering around and ready to go home a few nights ago, coupled with two of Mom's favorite people in the world coming into focus lately has ignited a fire within me.

Just be there. Show up.

I am looking at our home and focusing on making it feel like a safe haven. A soft place to land. A place of comfort and peace.

After I closed my daycare, I was driven with a force of energy I haven't been able to summon since. I had a very strong feeling I was making room for change. I emptied rooms, cupboards and storage areas. Our home was open to whatever came next.

Then Mom died. Little did I know I had made room for some of Mom's belongings. They had a home here long before a home was required. This was not what I expected but it calmed me to know I had already made room for what was to come.

Our home has been undergoing a bit of an identity crisis ever since. "I have three spare bedrooms," I would tell those who were facing a fork in a road where relocation may be an option. I have room. No one came.

My bedroom availability has shifted and changed since that time. I still have the ability to house a lot of guests for a short or long time period, offering privacy, space, quiet and (unfortunately) a fair bit of cat hair to go along with it.

I have made the offer again. This time the answer was yes.

The tides are shifting. They may ebb and flow and it is quite possible life will go back to a slightly revised new normal for those who touch my world.

I am simply grateful to have something to offer.

Mom would be pleased...

She Came to Me in a Dream

She was ready to go home. She had been visiting family and friends but now she was heading home. All she had was an empty dresser ...

Dreams are liquid, ever moving and illogical at times. This dream was so vivid I could have sworn I was living it.

Mom was ready to go home. For some completely unknown reason, she was packing up an empty dresser she had loaned to my cousin's wife. The dresser was used in the same fashion as a Tupperware container is used to give someone a cake or batch of cookies. The dresser was simply the vessel used to give what was inside. She was taking her empty dresser home with her. The dresser was in the back of a truck and Mom was going home. At last. 

My sister and I looked at each other with a mirrored expression of horror and disbelief. Mom didn't have a house to go home to. Her house has been emptied and sold. How could we have done this? We thought she died. Not only did Mom not have a home, she didn't even have a pair of underwear to put inside her empty dresser ...

I was wracked with guilt, disbelief and horror. My heart was shattered with the very idea that we gave all Mom's belongings away.

I woke up and it took a few minutes to shake myself into reality. Never have I felt so relieved to be reminded of Mom's death. It was okay. We had to empty her home and distribute her belongings. It was necessary.

This is a recurring dream I have had sporadically since Mom died. She wants to know where her belongings are. She is wandering. Wondering. This time she was heading home. With an empty dresser in tow.

The dream is most likely rich with symbolism. Those who believe in a loved one's presence in a dream may weave some logical explanation into this distorted dream sequence. All I know is I woke up feeling "Mom" all around and within me.

I have never been so pleased to have an oasis within my home where I can simply breathe in Mom's essence. I sat on Mom's love seat, held my coffee to my heart, was conscious of my own heart beat and wrapped my other arm around myself. I felt her. I missed her. Her essence was so strong within and around me.

I couldn't shake the feeling, nor did I want to. I let myself be still and simply breathe. I held my warm cup of coffee and let my thoughts wander.

My thoughts have been wrapped up in all things family recently. It is no wonder thoughts of Mom trickled into my subconscious mind.

She came to me in a dream. She wants to go home.

No Words

So many thoughts ... so few words.

Life is like that. We think. We feel. We process. But at the end of the day, words are not enough.

Owning the Age We Are At

I was delighted to discover that Jamie & Paul Buchman were dusting off their TV series "Mad About You" and allowing their audience a glimpse at their lives twenty years after the series ended. I was even more excited to discover a cable channel I have is airing this comeback.

I loved this show when it was new and fresh. Jamie (Helen Hunt) is only a few years younger than me and they were living the dream I was never able to attain. They were married, mostly happily and we got to watch this brand new marriage evolve over the seven years the series aired.

I read a book Paul Reiser wrote (Couplehood) and enjoyed every word. I liked the characters these actors portrayed and enjoyed Helen Hunt's movies  in the "after Mad About You years".

I couldn't wait to sit and watch the reboot of the old series.

The story line didn't entirely captivate me so I found myself scrutinizing the appearance of Paul and Jamie.

Paul (Paul Reiser) looked his age. A distinguished bit of graying, a little heavier than my memory of his appearance from twenty years ago. I watched Paul and enjoyed his look. He simply wore his age well.

Jamie (Helen Hunt), on the other hand, appeared (only from where I sat and I do not profess to be an expert on this subject) to encompass the way I feel about aging. If I could, I would like to look the way I did twenty years ago. I liked my weight back then, I enjoyed a face that had fewer crinkles, skin that was tighter and a hair color that didn't come out of a box.

Jamie's face was taught, her body looked lithe and youthful, she has good hair ... but (in my humble opinion) she didn't wear her age as well as Paul.

I relate far too much to Jamie. She looked the way I wish I looked. But she doesn't look natural. I admire how Paul simply "owns the age he is at" and wears it so naturally.

I have looked in the mirror a little differently since this revelation.

Yes, I like the fact that I can dye my hair and maintain the illusion I am in control of some part of this aging process. But how long do I really want to continue doing this?

My sister set the bar for me when she decided to "go natural". She looks good. She looks natural. She looks right. Her youthful outlook on life, the twinkle in her eyes, a ready smile and her natural good looks (oh, how I hope that I have inherited a few of the same genes) make her beautiful.

I want to own the age I am at. Presently I am gazing at the "root situation" in my hair. I have one box of hair color in the cupboard and wondering...am I brave enough to let go and let my hair color define me?