At the Peach Tree

Here in the most perfect late middle of summer, with the sun high and bright among few clouds, I have taken the occasion to lie out on a blanket in the yard, as the woodland folk peek and gambol round about. I have been nurturing a friendly rapport with the woodchuck and young rabbit who inhabit this place, so they are wary but not daunted, and engage charmingly in peek-a-boo as I snap their photos. The game today is crossing the yard undetected, from their home in the hedge to the peach tree on the other side.

Woodchuck peeks out. He is reconnoiterring. I have invaded his space, but perhaps I do not want his peaches badly enough to engage in combat.

Young rabbit is nonchalant, nibbling at the edges of the lawn a few feet from the hedge, pretending I am not there.

Woodchuck ventures out onto the lawn. I am obviously a loafer who does not eat woodchucks or peaches.

Peach tree achieved! Young rabbit peeks out as I snap his picture. Look at all those peaches. Hee hee hee.

Uh oh... here comes trouble! Woodchuck lumbers out of the undergrowth. "Those are my peaches," he grumbles. Young rabbit feels his size.

Woodchuck gains the day. "Take as many pictures as you like, lady. These peaches are for me." I do not want any of his goldang peaches (ahem).

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