At last I’ve made a friend of my rhubarb. Four pots at last make it into the ground – after a year here, in pots, suffering (manmade) drought and a pack of rabbits (what is the collective for rabbits?) taking their tea on them for a month or so unnoticed by me. Rugged little buggers, they survived – and now they’re throwing out stalks and even flowers – somewhere between elderflower and purpley pink sponged cauliflower. Close up there’s something ice creamy about them, popcorny even.
All day as I’ve been digging over the patch they’re going into (right next to the asparagus bed, so you know they’re important) I’ve been humming and mind-singing Cocteau Twins songs. Maybe I’m entering a midlife crisis. There can be few things wronger than a man attempting to mimic Elizabeth Frazer’s made up vocabulary. Aren’t dads supposed to content themselves blowing jungle squawks with a bit of grass strung between thumbs?
Rabbits? They're called a warren, but also a herd, nest, colony, trace, drove or leash. In this case, maybe you could add plague.
Aha – thank you! i'd always thought 'warren' refered to their home rather than to them as a group. A drove sounds good…how about a fleece, a feasting, or a target of rabbits?!
ohhhhhhh lovely photos
'A scourge' was the first thing that came to my mind, followed closely by 'a stew' 🙂
v good moonwaves! and thank you shellywoman
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