Like the beat beat beat of the tom-tom

It's a bunny, about the size of a guinea pig, with ears, tho not much bigger, standing straight as he nibbles on the shaggy lawn watching me out of one eye. There are some blooms about, more the promise of blooms than flowers; perhaps they will be lacecap hydrangeas, there's a standard example of the horrid wygealea with a sprinkling of pink flowers that I saw a butterfly - turned hummingbird on specific looking, just before I saw the baby bunny rabbit come out from the hedge for happy hour. There's hardly anyone here this weekend, not even Rolf, who is home, working. It's the first weekend with the Jeep at the beach. He made a play for me to stay home too. And it broke my heart to come without him, but I'm stubborn.

I was so lonely this morning. Another day alone in a crowd on the beach; the "alone" measure outweighed seeing dolphins long enough for me to decide to find my cousin, who I shall call Bunny, just because the baby bunny seems to have an insatiable appetite, and there's a rule here on SideNote - not everything is true, and I don't use anyone's real name. . . because. . . well, . . it's all true. Except it's not.

It's almost 4.