I battle the bunnies every year. In truth, there is no battle. The bunnies win, hands down. Early in the spring when I first start to see them dash across my lawn, those cute little destroyers would fit in the palm of my hand. Rabbits (remember Peter Rabbit) are notoriously bad tenants, but it seems we root for the bunnies. I won’t call them the underdogs because the rabbits around my garden end up fat and happy. They love pansies and petunias as much as I and can munch their way through a huge mass of pansies in far less time than it took me to plant the flowers. The squatters are so much at home that they invite their friends, the squirrels and chipmunks, to the party. Everyone always seems to be having an uproarous time at their picnics, except me. Okay, don’t share my secret, but there is a tiny, very tiny, part of me that enjoys their antics.