IN YOUR EASTER BONNET

When I was a young 'un, I had to have my hair flattened down, my ears washed, a tie knotted around my neck in a shirt with a ridiculous collar and taken to church for Easter services.

Why on earth I was smiling through this torturous experience is something I surely don't know to this day.

I don't remember any chocolate bunnies in my youth though there may have been some.

After church finally got out (it was only an hour but in my Presbyterian church with its dour Scottish preacher it seemed to last forever), we came home to a baked ham dinner.

I still like baked ham.

If I ever had a chocolate bunny I haven't had one for many, many years.

But I spotted a real one in our backyard the other day.

I first saw him as I opened the blinds and pulled them back on the slider door in the living room.

I hurried around to my den and opened and slowly pulled the blinds back there and the dumb bunny just sat their, frozen, as I got my camera and took several shots.

Lori Down the Street, hates the bunnies because they eat her plants.

We have only a few herbs in a pot and I don't think the bunnies have found them.

Or they don't like them.

Anyway, I enjoy seeing the bunnies.

And none of them are missing their ears or their butts.

Though I've always thought that they seem about as smart as the damnable mourning doves that hang around, wooing and cooing.

Speaking of which, I wonder how many of you remember the Singing Cowboy, Gene Autry.