May and scrapings

I called Youngest Daughter to look at a bedraggled wet baby rabbit on our sidewalk at the garden border. It was no larger than my fist, and didn’t move a muscle. We’d had a steady light rain all day, and the temperature didn’t get above 46F all day. I set off on my errands, figuring that as soon as we were gone the rabbit would high-tail it for the burrow. I’d forgotten that most of the rabbits in the area seem to favor scrapings instead—and scrapings offer no shelter from rain and cold. It was fallen on its side when I came back with Youngest Son, and is now buried in the new garden I’m digging where the tree used to be. May in Wisconsin…