May begins tomorrow. I hesitated to write a blog post about my Easter event from April. I asked Maggie, hoping she’d say, “Blow it off, Mom.” Instead, she replied, “The virus has thrown everyone off. Write it anyway, even if Easter happened weeks ago. If it really bothers you, throw in a reference to the bunnies in our yard last night. Rabbits. Easter. Still timely.” Yeah, I could make it all fit that way. Or I could just tell you what happened on Easter Sunday.


I grew up with a traditional Easter of church, white gloves, baked ham, and basket of candy. The whole pastel show of family traditions.

When the stay-at-home order descended, most of my big plans went astray.

20200412_150443This Easter I pulled weeds.

I was fit to be tied. I take weeds personally. I know they conspire against me in the moonlight, creeping forward and squeezing between stepping stones.

I like shopping for flowers and then digging, watering, mulching, Preening, and sitting down.

Perhaps you’ll remember that rabbits ate almost everything in last year’s garden, leaving even more bare ground for weeds to infiltrate. Did they ever.

After several hours of work, I hauled the unsightly harvest across the yard to our neighbor Rob’s compost pile.

“How are you today, Karen?” he called from the side of his house where he worked.

“Because you’re a nice person, I’ll spare you from listening to me at length. But I hate weeds, Rob. I’m not much of a gardener anyway. My mother loved everything about it. I don’t know how she did it,” I said in exasperation and turned away.

“Don’t think of it like that,” he said patiently. “You do know. You know that it has to be done. It’s the only way. And you get out there and do it. Give yourself credit. Look at all you’ve accomplished over there in that garden since you moved in.” He waved toward the expanse that separates our yards.

20200412_150057I saw his point. Weeds three feet tall strangled the space when we arrived. Little by little we’ve tamed it. I wouldn’t call it anything as exciting as an adventure, but it is a step-by-step journey. Then over his shoulder, I noted his decorated tree, even though his grandchildren wouldn’t hunt eggs under it this year. He and Beth hadn’t let the holiday slip away. They continued.

With kindness, Rob reminded me of what my dad once pointed out–that I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Weeds happen. So do rabbits.



So, yes, the Easter Bunny appears every year. Typically he wears a bow tie and offers candy. But pay attention. Sometimes he wears a ball cap and offers encouragement.



10 thoughts on “Sudden Angels Part 8: The Easter Bunny

  1. C’est bien le cœur qui nous tient debout, mais pas parce qu’il bat, simplement parce qu’il aime…
    Thankyou dear Karen!
    Your story made my day! The magic of Easter is no less then Christmas…
    Its everywhere, we just need to open our eyes a little wider…
    & Your a pro at helping us find it!!!
    Love Marguerite


    1. I’m so appreciative that my post resonated with you so much that you were moved to leave a comment. I live for these treasures from followers. I’m working in my garden today and giving a day lily to Rob. I mean my Easter Bunny.


  2. Today I went out early and deadheaded all the flowers in my pollination pots and actually found myself enjoying it! Maybe because it was calm, the birds were chirping at the feeders, and not 100 degrees as it will be by two o’clock, I looked at the dreaded deadheading as a gift not just to the pollinators but to myself because I knew more flowers would soon take their place. Now if only I can keep that feeling going.


    1. Perfect. Today I dusted off my attitude and got back out there–in the weed-free garden to plant flowers that attract bees and butterflies. A nice breeze and a little sunshine helped me through. Just like you, I’m thinking with hope.


  3. Belated Happy Easter! You are quite right; rabbits come in all sizes, shapes, genders, and other anthropomorphic versions.

    Sent from my iPhone



    1. Thank you for the comment. I didn’t know I’d be lucky enough to move next door to a wise “rabbit.” Yesterday Rob said he’d never seen as many rabbits as we have this spring. The little bunnies scurry through the lattice under our back porch to hide. Oh, boy, here we go.


  4. Thanks, Karen, for your blog! I’ve just subscribed and can’t wait to catch up on your writings. One secret thought about weeds- I love it when they push up between cracks in the sidewalks and pavements. It’s like nature asserting herself!


    1. Thank you for that perspective, Linda. I honestly learn from the wonderful comments left by readers. By the way, I’ve just come back inside after another 2-hour weed-pulling session along our fence. Instead of fuming, I leaned into the job, noting their persistence in life. And mine. Thanks again.


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