My sister Fleta would feed dad's chickens in front of his window so he could watch them eat in the evening. There in the breaking day dad and I would watch a cotton tail rabbit feed on the grain that the chickens had left behind. Ever since when I see a cotton tail rabbit I have thought about daddy and the last few days of his life. We are having a drought here and the only fresh greenery is my garden which I water ever other day. This morning as I sat in my chair enjoying the morning first light up hopped a cotton tail rabbit into my garden looking for some fresh greens. I spent several moments watching the bunny's black eyes hiding behind a tomato plant watching me and I remembered once again those days long gone when I sat and spent time with daddy watching another rabbit looking for food.
It is appropriate that since dad's nickname was "cotton" that my memory of him be triggered by a cotton tail rabbit.
2 comments:
In the winter, he loved to hunt and few and have stewed rabbit.
It is sprinkling here, not raining, but perhaps that will come.
he would cut me a stick and whittle the end like a spear when we went hunting so I could stab a rabbit with it...some how I never got close enough to a live rabbit to spear it...imagine that
Post a Comment