It lets you in. It lets you out. On the opposite side and up the hill was were all the cars were parked. It's where my car was parked as I took this photograph. From where I stood that day, it represented the end of a couple of hours in the woods. By this time, I may be a little tired. But I am certainly pleased with my American morning. The air was warm. Nature's abundance had been on display, even there at the bridge, with greenery all around and the sun beaming down, as I’m on the way back home.

It had been a quiet morning, walking through the park. Casting their shadow on the path and on me, tall trees lined either side, thick with branches and underbrush. Occasionally, down and to the right, I could see a glimpse of something through the trees, a bright spot, compelling in some special way. It looked like a pool of water lit up by the morning sun. My curiosity was high. I stepped off the path, dodging branches, stepping over roots, looking ahead, trying to see what might be hiding down there.

I must admit I don't know most of this bunny's story. My first encounter with the black bunny occurred the day of this photograph in December of 2013. I parked my car at one of the many trail heads for Lake Conestee Nature Park. I grabbed my camera gear and went off down the trail toward one of the lake remnants to take some photos of the trees along the lake as the morning sun first struck them. I took photos for an hour or so and headed back to my car to go home.

As I approached my car, I saw it.