Is the Easter Bunny real?

Beatrix Potter must have thought so. She wrote “The Tale of Peter Rabbit” to a sick child in 1893. Illustrated by her own hand, Beatrix published the story in 1901. Since then, over 45 million copies of Peter have sold, making the small book one of the most popular of all time.

Peter was “very naughty.” He did not listen to his mother, Mrs. Rabbit, but left his sisters to do the work of gathering blackberries while he crept into Mr. McGregor’s garden for a snack. Stuffed and too fat to run, he was chased by Mr. McGregor, who would have certainly baked Peter into a pie – as he had with Peter’s father – if he had caught Peter. Our wayward bunny managed to escape, but at the loss of his little blue jacket and shoes. Peter reached home exhausted and collapsed in a flop “on the floor of their rabbit-hole, and shut his eyes.” Poorly Peter Rabbit was put to bed with a dose of chamomile tea, while his sisters “had bread and milk and blackberries, for supper.”

As I write, I am looking at a porcelain figurine of “Poorly Peter Rabbit.” Next to Peter is a happy threesome of little girl bunnies. Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail got the berries and not the cold, and enjoyed a nice dessert rather than an early-to-bed with nasty medicine.

If you look closely at my trio, you can see that Flopsy’s left ear has been glued back on. She seems quite fine, and she pops up again on the bureau with her sisters each Easter to lead the chase into the woods while Peter gets into trouble again.

The three sisters and Peter are Easter bunnies, because they have been in our house for Easter for as long as many can remember . . . and as long as the happy thoughts I hold so dear.

Easter bunnies are like that – here, there and everywhere. They come in a grand variety of different sizes, shapes and colors, hiding in their bunny holes until Easter arrives. Then, they, one and all, pop out into baskets, under beds, inside plastic eggs, just outside the door in the early morning, or wrapped in pastel papers for a special surprise. Some are hard, some are soft, and some are quite edible and composed of chocolate, marshmallow and assorted candies for girls and boys everywhere to enjoy.

The life of the Easter bunny is one of frolicsome fun, even if it is for only the one holiday each year. When that has passed, off they hop, back into their snug little rabbit holes, to hide and rest until they arrive back again for another Easter time.

When they get old and retire, Easter bunnies paint.

When they get older still and are like Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny, they teach the little bunnies how to paint . . . and not just Easter eggs.

Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny taught the bright-eared rabbit youngsters how to paint the flowers, ferns and mosses, and then the autumn leaves, and the winter shadows and frosty windowpanes, the first tiny buds of spring, the wings of new butterflies, and the whole wildwood in its different seasons and many colors.

One day, Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny told the bunny boys and girls that he was going away, and he told them a secret about the next thing he would paint. The rabbit children were sad, and they missed their friend, but they had the secret and they waited patiently.

Not soon after, a great storm shook the woods and the bunnies scurried into the safety of their warm and dry rabbit homes.

Across Bunnyville, Mommy and Daddy rabbits wondered why their children didn’t seem scared, waited patiently by the doors of their burrows and rushed out as soon as the rain stopped.

The little rabbits hopped to the top of the hill and waited there.

Of course, the rest of the residents of Bunnyville followed and stood with their families.

In the west, it started and started, and grew and grew and grew.

In the history of Bunnyville and in the colors of all the seasons of the wildwood, such a sunset had never been seen before. It was the most fantastically colored sunset ever.

The parents watched the sky and watched their children and wondered why the little bunnies smiled and nodded at each other as if they knew something only they knew and it was with them there on that hill and in that sky.

After the last brushes of color dipped and were gone, the children pulled the big bunnies down and whispered into every adult ear, “Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny.”

The bunny parents smiled and nodded back to their little bunnies.

They knew, as we do, that the Easter Bunny is real indeed and just waiting to be seen.

Have a most wondrous and bright Easter with family, friends, Peter and his sisters, and, of course, Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny,

Grandpa Jim