CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- I walked into the kitchen last Sunday morning to find one of my daughter's friends staring out the kitchen window, head tilted. She was squinting up into a big oak tree that towers over my porch.
"Did it really snow last night?" she asked.
"It's in the 80s," I said.
"Then what's that?"
It appeared to be snow. A big puff of it, stretched long across a branch. She pointed to another nearby branch that was similarly fluffy and white.
But I knew better. It wasn't snow. It was evidence.
Proof of how very wrong I could be.
I have this chair. Once upon a time, it was a pretty chair, covered in a classy sort of tapestry fabric. It was overstuffed, with a matching ottoman, but it attracted the attentions of a claw-sharpening cat who so thoroughly ribboned the sides that it came to look as if it were wearing a Hawaiian grass skirt. But since the chair was still so comfortable, I relocated it to the basement, where its next misfortune was to be located directly beneath a pipe. Which broke. Thoroughly soaking the chair.
So this is how the chair came to be in my back yard, where it had been dragged into a sunny spot to dry. Except while there in the sun, the chair's wonderful overstuffedness was discovered by three rather enthusiastic pet rabbits that have the run of our yard.
Unfortunately, only two rabbits at a time were capable of comfortably fitting on the seat of the chair. Rabbits are great appreciators of such indulgences but are not fond of sharing. Granted, they may appear to be docile creatures who can be easily manipulated with S'mores-flavored Pop-Tarts, but in reality, they are hostile beasts who will repeatedly fling each other from hula chairs with increasing brutality.