The Suspicious Garden [Story #3]

Rabbit could smell the trouble before he saw it. An acrid cloud hung around Briar Street. It stung rabbit’s nostrils and made the tan fur on his muzzle feel damp and itchy.

Rabbit was a curious fellow. He was the first in the litter to leave his mother’s den, the first to explore the sunny meadow. And he was the first to abandon the meadow and venture off over the hillside. At the start, Rabbit only wanted to see what lay on the other side of the hill. He found a pond with some turtles and reeds that rattled and scraped when the wind meandered through them. Rabbit liked the turtles and the rattling reeds, but he quickly grew bored of them. Turtles are not big talkers, you know.

So, Rabbit moved on. Over the next hill. Through a ravine. Over another hill. Then another.

Days passed. Weeks. At some point, Rabbit realized he was on an adventure. The thought made him smile and wriggle his cotton ball tail. After a few months, Rabbit ended up in the city, on the edge of Briar Street.

“Oh, that smell!” Rabbit said aloud, hopping cautiously forward. “It reminds me of rotting leaves and porcupine dung.”

At this point, most rabbits would have turned tail and fled from the noxious smell, but not Rabbit. He pressed onward, one hop at a time. Soon, he reached a battered wooden fence and wriggled through the slats. The heavy air hung around him like a wet coat of fur.

Rabbit looked around. Plants everywhere. All different colors and sizes. Flowers, vines, fruits, grasses. They tumbled over one another in a raucous heap of life.

Except they didn’t seem too lively. Many of the plants’ leaves were shriveled and their heads were heavy and bowed. The greens were mottled with disease; the flowers looked dull and listless.

“This is the gloomiest garden I’ve ever seen,” said Rabbit, picking his way through a patch of brambles. “I wonder what happened here.”

“It’s Vine’s fault,” a voice above his head made Rabbit pause, look up. A cluster of raspberries hung above him. When the berries saw Rabbit looking at them, they all began chattering and bouncing up and down on the bush.

“It’s the Creeping Charlie vine, to be precise.”

“He chokes out the rest of us.”

“It’s hard to grow when Vine takes all your nutrients.”

“Doesn’t leave anything for the rest of us, he doesn’t.”

“A greedy vine; truly greedy.”

Rabbit held up a paw. The chattering stopped. “I’m sorry Vine is crowding you out, Raspberries. That must be the reason this garden smells so foul.”

The berries bounced up and down in agreement.

“I will confront Vine,” Rabbit said, “and ask him why he must be so greedy.”

“Thank you, Rabbit. Thank you.”

Rabbit hopped forward and it wasn’t long until his foot caught on the Creeping Charlie vine and he tumbled forward.

“Vine!” Rabbit scolded, untangling himself and turning to face the sprawling plant. “I’ve heard you’re up to some nasty things in this garden. You’re taking over and leaving no room for the poor raspberries to breathe.”

“It’s not true!” said Vine, undulating like a snake across the ground. “I am a victim, not a trouble-maker. It’s the sunflowers who are to blame for the putrid smell in the garden. They grow so tall and spread their petals so wide that they swallow the sun. There’s no sunshine left for any of us down here.”

“Hmm,” said Rabbit, considering what Vine had said. “Plants need sunlight to grow and flourish. I can understand your problem.”

“Thank you,” said Vine. “Can you please go over there and talk to the sunflowers. They refuse to stoop their heads to talk to a lowly ground-crawler like me.”

“I will do that,” said Rabbit. With a determined hop, Rabbit headed toward a group of sunflowers huddled together in a tall formation. When Rabbit approached, he felt a shadow pass over his face. “I see what Vine meant,” he said aloud, “you sunflowers really do block the sun from everyone else.”

“We’re not to blame!” one of the sunflowers protested, bending her head toward Rabbit.

“Then who is to blame, Sunflower?” Rabbit asked, jutting his nose out defiantly. “A lack of sunshine would make any garden wilt and grow rancid.”

“So would a lack of pollinators!” cried Sunflower, tossing her head. “We have a hard time up here, you know. Milkweed is stealing all the butterflies. None of the butterflies bother to flutter up here because they are all enchanted by Milkweed’s flower. We can’t compete!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rabbit said, dropping his chin. “I know flowers need butterflies or other pollinators to help them make more flowers. I can understand your distress.”

“Thank you, Rabbit,” said Sunflower. “We are afraid that we won’t be able to make more sunflowers because the butterflies turn their noses up at us.”

“I understand,” Rabbit replied. “I will go talk to Milkweed.”

Rabbit set out for the edge of the garden, where a grove of milkweed plants fanned their bushy flowers.

“You’re causing quite the disturbance in this garden, aren’t you, Milkweed?” Rabbit said as he approached the plants. “Sunflower says you’re stealing all the butterflies.”

“We can’t help it if the butterflies like us,” Milkweed ruffled her leaves defensively. “It’s always been that way. But I’m telling you, Rabbit, we’re not to blame for the garden’s discord.”

“Oh?” said Rabbit, frowning skeptically. “If the butterflies don’t pollinate the sunflowers, who will?”

“Bees!” Milkweed cried. “Bees are excellent pollinators and Lavender hogs them all for himself. There’s always a swarm buzzing over there. I wish we had that many butterflies fluttering around us. Go see for yourself, Rabbit.”

“Okay,” said Rabbit. “I will do that.”

Rabbit was growing frustrated by all the blame that spilled out of the garden, but he did his best to keep a level head. “I will get to the bottom of this,” Rabbit said to himself as he hopped toward the lavender.

“Lavender!” Rabbit called when he was within earshot. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“What is it?” Lavender asked, swaying with the breeze that tumbled through the garden. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s not what Milkweed claims. She tells me that you’re stealing all the bees in the garden, that you won’t share them with anyone else.”

“That’s a dirty lie!” Lavender growled. “The bees come here on their own accord. I do nothing to keep them from the other plants. If you’re looking for someone to blame for the garden’s rottenness, look no further than the raspberries.”

“Raspberries?” Rabbit fumed. “But it was the raspberries that sent me hopping around this garden in the first place. They told me Vine was to blame for monopolizing the garden’s nutrients.”

“That may be true,” Lavender responded, “but the raspberries are also greedy. They grow sweet fruit that the humans love. Because of that, the humans spend extra time pruning and taking care of them. No one else in the garden gets that kind of attention.”

“Oh dear,” said Rabbit, shaking his head. “I can understand the frustration the rest of the garden must feel when Raspberry gets the lion’s share of the attention.”

“Yes,” said Lavender. “It creates a lot of jealousy in the garden.”

Rabbit nodded. He didn’t know what else to say to Lavender, so he hopped away. Rabbit reached the exact center of the garden and sat for a while, fiddling with his paws. He was full of anxiety and confusion.

“I’m afraid I didn’t solve anything for the pestilent garden,” Rabbit moaned. “Every plant blames another for the garden’s problems. They’re all so full of vitriol, that they cannot see their own flaws. What, oh what, can I do?”

Rabbit stood thinking about the problem for several minutes, wringing his paws and twitching his nose. As he pondered, Rabbit could hear the negative chatter of the surrounding plants. They complained and grumbled; they shot each other scathing looks. The sky above seemed dark and dead.

Rabbit looked up. Something drifted past him and fluttered upward. The flying creature circled once in the air and alit on the head of Sunflower. It was a butterfly.

A few seconds later, another butterfly joined the first. Rabbit’s jaw dropped. He began looking around. Bees hummed quietly by Milkweed and Raspberry. A quiet stream of sunlight broke through the clouds and filtered down onto Vine’s sprawling body.

Yet, the grumbling continued. The blaming. The hate-filled words.

Rabbit drew in a deep breath and let out a scream: “STOP!”

The sound echoed across the garden’s din; the chattering halted.

“Take a look around you, plants. There is plenty for all. Lots of butterflies and bees, an abundance of sunlight and nutrients in the soil. And I’m certain your human cares for all of you, even though she may favor Raspberry.”

Rabbit looked around at the plants. “Why all the suspicion and malice? You’re all blaming each other for what you think might happen in the garden. You’re so busy feeling threatened that you’re forgetting to enjoy the sunshine and the buzzing bees.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunflower sniffed. “I’m not imagining anything. Milkweed really does take the bulk of the butterflies for herself.”

“That may be,” said Rabbit, “but don’t you take a little extra sunshine?”

“I might,” Sunflower said, raising her head indignantly, “but there’s plenty left over for the others.”

“Precisely,” Rabbit smiled. “There’s enough for all, you just have to learn to share and be welcoming to others, despite your differences. After all, you all want the same things—to grow and flourish, to create seedlings to carry on your family name. Isn’t that right?”

A few plants nodded. They sat quietly, thinking about the wisdom in Rabbit’s words. As they sat, the tiny trickle of sunlight grew wider, stronger. The hanging clouds blew away in a strong breeze. The garden was bathed in a friendly afternoon glow.

“I’m sorry,” Vine said to Sunflower. In my heart, I knew that you weren’t hogging the sunlight.

“And I’m sorry to you, Vine,” Raspberry called down from the bush. “You don’t really hog the entire ground.”

“Sorry,” the plants said to each other. “We were wrong to judge. We were wrong to hate.”

Rabbit listened to the chorus of apologies and smiled. The overhead sun shone on his nose and he wriggled it delightedly. He stretched one leg, then the other. Slowly, silently he hopped away.