A pear for a hare

This tiny bunny enjoyed one of the dropped pears from our ancient tree. I watched as he enthusiastically gnawed the fruit down to the skin before hopping off. The tree was quite old when I was young in the 50s. I suspect it was planted by the original owner, Dr. Brigham when the house was built in 1893. My maternal grandparents bought the house from a son of the Brighams in 1928. 

The pear tree is slowly dying, but has revived a bit since we have provided some trimming and recent spraying by tree experts. It has produced glossy leaves and a decent crop of fruit for rabbits and squirrels, this summer. For me, it's part of my childhood, always rooted right beside the house. As long as I can remember it has been partially hollow, filled with birds, chipmunks and squirrels. I've seen it from through the window of my favorite room,   forever. A room that still holds the memories of my grandparents their chairs and me sitting on the floor so happy to be with them. 

Speaking of happy, we're thrilled that this bunny is feasting on fruit instead of forbidden garden flowers. We have resorted to covering special plants at night to save them. 

For the Record,
This day came in hot and humid, yet again. We're going for a walk near the ocean to hopefully find a breeze.

All hands wary