"Noddy went to Toyland", where he was promptly arrested by
Constable Plod for exceeding the speed limit, stories for children
reflected even darker essences. In more distant days witches and
wolves lived in forests, bears ate from porringers, and grandmothers were
never quite who you thought they were.
I too am guilty of
attributing qualities to flora and fauna that they might not
deserve. Uncle Eggplant ascribes a peculiar and unnatural
relationship to a recent ancestor. Bluebirds do not read, they do
not play chess, nor entertain themselves with a charade or two when the
Tree Swallows are gone.
I understand my error. It
approaches the facile. I am Disneyesque. I am bunny rabbit in my
perceptions. Yet I remain with this reach of attribution despite it
being a fundamental failure of comprehension.
It is a fortunate position. A
luxury perhaps. But my mind wanders among those places and people I
have known and I have learned what danger is. Dangerous is the mind
that sees no gray, and generally in those places that order minds, every
thing is "yes" or "no". And this, when journey in
imagination is adventure.
Cantaloupe of course is evil.
Herons wear bedroom slippers after dark and a mole is so confusing a color
has been named after him.