Saturday, August 24th would have been my mother’s 70th birthday. And, as you know, you have to make a big deal out of the birthdays ending with 0.
We chose several of her favorite things: a tea party, a fancy cake (not chocolate), a hike to Cecret Lake, story telling and a new bunny.
Why a new bunny? Because she (just found out she’s a he) seems lonely.
And because visiting the bunny farm makes our hearts sing. We drive through a canopy of sun speckled leaves until the mansion comes into view. Peacocks strut across the lawn, hundred of birds flit from tree to tree and the barn was plucked straight out of a fairy tale.
Llamas, goats and miniature horses are penned in back while pigeons, doves and canaries spin and twirl. Hundreds, hundreds of adorable bunnies scamper through their pen.
We found this magical place when they placed an ad selling baby bunnies in the classifieds– I’m not going to tell you his name or address but we call him the billionaire bunny man.
This little sweetie seemed perfect to take home.
And we left Xander there to train the baby horse (not kidding).
Just as we were getting in the car to drive to Cecret Lake, the sky cracked open in a wild and beautiful thunderstorm.
Leaving us no choice but to jump and splash and play.
Showered and jammied, a silly fairy helped me set the table.
My mother loved beautiful plates and miniature forks, laughter and spontaneity, practical jokes and delightful surprises (like an awesome summer storm).
And I know she sat at the table with us, giggling at Mary’s antics and egging Ben on (as if Ben needs any encouragement). She’s always with us.
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.” — Pericles