Tuesday, March 22, 2011

From Stone to Life

On my walk yesterday I decided that I’d pick up counting rabbits again. It takes a certain amount of attention—somewhat denied in a season when you keep the hood of the parka tight, the bill of the cap low. Mild, overcast weather. To get into the swing of things, I started counting rabbits made of stone, the cute things people put on their front stoops. It was a long walk, an hour and a half. As I neared the end of it I entered a cozy hidden little street called Roosevelt in Grosse Pointe. Here I found my tenth, eleventh, and finally my twelfth stone rabbit. Almost at the end of Roosevelt I peered through the gap between the side of a house and a tall hedge into the depths of a back yard. There in the back was another one. Big, grey. It looked very real to me, but its absolute stillness suggested a very successful sculpture. Birds were walking across the lawn. I was tempted to clap my hands to test this statue. But then a bird passed the rabbit—and the big old rabbit turned its head. My thirteenth rabbit was the live one! Mission accomplished, I wended my way home.

3 comments:

  1. Lucky thirteen!
    This made me smile.
    Thanks.

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  2. In a slow and leisurely way it reminds me of a creation tale: the creator moseys along one day, and keeps coming across images of trickster rabbit. We'd have to spin the tale out for 12 of the critters, and then the 13th turns and runs away... loosing trickster on the world!

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  3. You are so right, Montag, and your take makes me smile too. La Marotte, after all, the jester's instrument (and A.'s other blog) might have been the better home for this little tale.

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