Rabbits and tears

"Common sense would be handy in a situation like this," Percy had his fingers, such as they were, hovering over the golden orb of cookie. His job was to make sense of the thoughts that I had. The thoughts so grand and fantastical they needed a bit or a pinch of tether. Every witch I knew had a 'Percy', a special side-kick, familiar, guardian angel, spiritual advisor. And, every witch I knew of had a very different arrangement with her Percy. What made our relationship work all these years was its malleable nature. "If I eat this Butter Moon cookie, that will make ..." he had to recalibrate, honestly. "that would make?"

"That would make it an even half dozen, P. You're stuffing yourself and it'll hurt." I hated bursting his balloon. He's Pisces after all and sometimes? Sometimes he likes a good fantasy and then we're both in trouble. So you see the fix we get into. In most cases a witch came with her Percy at birth. It was different with me though. As with so much of life, standardization did not come with my packaging. Percy showed up a full four months after I was born. To be specific he was a fully formed rabbit born March 11th on a Hoaka moon. A Crescent Moon Rabbit.

"Let's split this in half, and if there is vanilla ice cream later I won't have any." Percy was very good at negotiation. I cuffed the mottled rabbit a soft blow to this right shoulder. Cynthia wasn't coming with ice cream but he was better off not knowing. The sweet grain emmer, tangy lemon and sugar satisfied us both. There was no need for more words.

The summer was at its peak. Even in the middle of the big waters of the Salish Sea, the cool breezes off the neighboring glaciers were not enough to keep the grasses from drying. Fox Glove and St. Joan's Wort were nearly done with their blooming time. Golden Rod was brilliant. Wild Blackberries were just ripening. Gardens up the hill declared the attentiveness of humans needing to cultivate. Dahlias were big as bowls and indiscriminate in coloration. Sunflowers stood with faces six feet high. I yearned most to stand and look into their deep brown faces and blow my breath across the yellow tips of sharply pointed petals. It wasn't everyday the yearning rose. But when it came there was no stopping it.

Percy nosed my cheek, catching tears with his long whiskers. "There, there." When a rabbit catches a witch's tears they collect them. It helps to nibble fresh sweet grass soon after. On a summer day such as this was, the dry stubble would create a different sort of outcome. Nonetheless, the collection of tears was one of the everyday magics that lent itself to building bridges between humans and all others. At least, there was that. The gods and elementals knew it was a bridge more needed to become facile with. Those that watched kept track. And soon a small breeze chummed the moisture of two small clouds and seemingly out of no where, a little rain fell.

The two wooden boats were not about a hundred yards off shore. Rafted together a colorful stripe umbrella rose from the middle of the Hare-Woman's punt. The brown-skinned woman lay stretched head into the bow, and toes over the stern. The silver-haired man with matching beard had a rope over one side of his boat. An anchor held the tiny crafts in place. A little rendezvous, a summer languish. Something new hatching?