Many pagans are powerless to resist the call of Halloween decorations, and believe me, I get it. I firmly believe that pointy hats, Ouija candles, and ceramic skulls are 100% appropriate as home decor items all year round, and I can’t blame anyone for ripping off all the spooky merchandise clearance shelves the day after Samhain.
My personal weakness, however, is Easter. I have something for horned rabbits and the associated lagomorph oddities, so while discount housewares stores are always dangerous places for me, I have to be even more vigilant when vernal tchotchke fluff starts showing up in seasonal displays.
I could rationalize the slight obsession by pointing out that hares are sacred to Hermes and associated with the Moon, or that I was born in the year of the rabbit, but honestly, I just think they’re cute and fun to watch. And I guess on some level I find them relatable. For example, jackalopes aren’t threatening furballs at first glance, but they do have these incongruous spikes sticking out of their little heads, and that kind of reminds me of myself – at least enough to name me after. them.
But I also think it’s hilarious when the traditional characteristics of spring are mixed in weird mixes, creating wolpertingers. Or when a designer pulls out all the stops to try to really capture wholesome Easter spirit, but the finished product is such an unambiguous pagan idol that it can only be used as background dressing in the Netflix original series Equinox.
These are the coins that telekinetically drop into my basket when I’m not paying attention. It’s like I’m being haunted by an aggressive but sticky poltergeist that assumes gay people all have disposable income. Which is pretty homophobic, when you think about it.
I’m grateful that money is currently an object, because it keeps my urge to collect ALL weird bunnies in check. However, I am also lucky to have friends who allow my cornutus lepus Addiction: Scrappy, my Misfits jet-set brother, brings me back bunny memories whenever he travels; Chester gave me the cutest Caerbannog killer rabbit for my birthday; and my friend McDammit loves to surprise me with long eared accessories.
I’m just saying that my friends understand me. And just like their living counterparts, the rabbits that inhabit my apartment are breeding at an alarming rate whether or not I am actively doing anything to encourage their population. But I’m glad to have them around.
The most recent addition to the menagerie was another gift from Scrappy – a miniature pinwheel. He actually gave me three, two of which I immediately gave to Tybalt and Nando. (Nando is the Minoan you haven’t met yet, but he’s super cool.)
Last time I was at Tybalt’s I noticed he had slipped his windmill in a kitchen pot among some herbs that were probably for seasoning and not at all deadly. And it made me think I should do something visual with my own windmill, which collected dust on my dining table and sometimes acted as an impromptu spinner.
When I got home, I grabbed the reel and taped it to an empty stucco spot, and… it looked brilliant: playful and festive and unexpected. Except for the band. It looked a bit clumsy. What I needed was some sort of mounted bud vase to hold the reel, and I found a few options on Etsy that weren’t great, but they all required spending some money, which seemed frivolous .
But then (!) I realized that I had something buried in the depths of my pantry that could possibly serve as a vase. There was no hook or cord or anything attached that I could use to hang it up, but it would definitely tie into the horned bunny theme. I just needed to find a way to make it work.
And I did.
I have to say here that I don’t have any home or home improvement abilities. As far as I’m concerned, cooking is the darkest of sorceries, and DIY projects are sometimes interrupted by inopportune trips to minor emergency clinics. And me really need to keep working on my divination prowess, because my only other applicable zombie apocalypse skill is an unwavering will to kill buffs before they turn around, and it’ll only get me so far before the rest of the survivors start wondering if I’m really making my mark.
But I approached the Bud Vase scenario as I would a Chaos Magic experiment:
- Here is the result I want to achieve.
- Here are the resources available to me.
- Here are the constraints, and here are the limits.
- How can I get there?
And then I realize it. And what begins as a dilemma ends up as an educational experience. Admittedly, the path I take from point A to point B may not be “traditional” or “common sense” or “obeying the laws of physics”, but I acquire knowledge by doing and failing and redoing and succeeding. Which is great, because I’ve never really done well in a classroom
Anyway, yeah, that’s why there’s now a bull horn full of bunnies glued to my wall.
I might as well start raising real rabbits here, ’cause I’m never gonna get my bail back.