What a wonderful April morning it is here at our hutch.  Mrs. Bunny was hopping about the garden when her daughter, Lillia, who was home visiting from Australia, suggested to Mrs. Bunny that she write a blog.
"Oh," said Mrs. Bunny, blushing modestly.  "Who would want to read my every thought and keep up on my every activity?"
"Perhaps you are right," said Lillia.
"Why, everyone!" amended Mrs. Bunny swiftly.
So Lillia, wise in the ways of the modern world, set Mrs. Bunny up on her computer and then hopped back to Australia, waving her hankie behind her.  Mrs. Bunny, busy composing, barely noticed.  She is a wonderful mother but has great powers of focus and concentration when called for.  "Don't forget to write,"  she may have mumbled in Lillia's fleeing direction and that precipitated a whole new reason to have anxiety attacks.
"What,"  she asked herself, "can I possibly write about?"
She  hopped into the garden where Mr. Bunny was busy striking poses.  Mrs. Treaclebunny from across the street had started a sculpting garden on her back forty and was busy doing Mr. Bunny's likeness in everything from marble to boxwood.
"Ah,"  said Mr. Bunny as he saw Mrs. Bunny approach,  "what do you think?  Am I more striking in bronze or driftwood?"
"Mr. Bunny,"  said Mrs. Bunny.  "Did I not ask you to wait to be immortalized until Mrs. Bunny was done with her blog entry?  No statue of Mr. Bunny is really complete without his bunny pal sculpted by his side."
"Feh,"  said Mr. Bunny.
"Feh,"  said Mrs. Treaclebunny.
Mrs. Bunny was so offended she did not reply but clapped a hat on her head and hopped immediately into Rabbitville where she found the perfect medium for a statue of herself.  In the end, she included Mr. Bunny.  But only because she is a much better rabbit than he.

To find out the medium that Mrs. Bunny chose, stay tuned for Mrs. Bunny's next post.