Of Strawberries And Bunnies

One of the singular joys of this time of year are the homegrown strawberries in my patch of sweetness right outside the screened-in porch. Over the past seven years, I have planted and re-planted, coaxed and protected, and waited every spring for the shoots to wake, flower, and grow the red fruit.

This year, we hired a lawn care service to weed for us. The conscientious young man did a vigorous pruning and much of the extended patch was gone after he left. At first, I was disconsolate. The loss would mean a lower yield. But as the remaining plants flourished, sagging under the weight of multiple blooms, I decided that perhaps his insight was better than mine. The incessant rains of May also turned out to be a boon. Hubby and I have enjoyed berries on cereal, in salads, and sweetened as a fruit course with our evening meals. In fact, I was planning to continue the harvest when our grand-dog Luna came to visit over the Memorial Day weekend and nosed out a secret hidden among the plants.

A mama rabbit had given birth to four babies in the very middle of the patch! Following her instincts, Luna dug and snuffled at the fur covering, capturing one of the little ones and playing with it in the yard. Despite our efforts, we were unable to save the unlucky bunny. Luna was banished to the house, the baby was buried, and the family discussed the lesson of nature’s cycle. But the other bunnies were safe. They remain in the hole in the ground, covered by a replaced layer of rabbit fur, growing bigger, waiting their turn at exploring the world.

I check each morning, wary of disturbing too much but driven to reassure myself that they are not abandoned and still live. This morning they barely fit in the nest. I’m sure that one day soon, they will wander out of the burrow and head for the thickets of wild that grows just beyond the border of our yard.I hope I am privileged to watch them go and pray they will survive the predators out there.

As I write this , I am struck by the dual purpose of the garden and my lowly patch of strawberry plants that has served as a home for another species. What possessed the mother to select that particular piece of earth to birth her children?Luck? Coincidence? Fate? Trust? The instinct to give back is innate in all the creatures of this world. What a marvelous garden we have been given!

From now on, picking strawberries will always bring with it the bittersweet memory of a Memorial Day discovery…and the certain knowledge that, as Jeff Goldblum’s character stated in Jurassic Park, “Life finds a way.”