Next door to the abandoned dairy farm that is Foxley Hill, lies a very small farm run by a very quiet, polite family. Mrs. Farmer is a dreamy soul who grows vegetables and flowers to sell at farmers’ markets. Mr. Farmer spends his days humming and singing church hymns while repairing cars and machinery for neighbors. He smells slightly of grease and oil and usually has a warm smile on his face. Their farm is neat and orderly. Vegetables are grown in straight rows, and flowers grow in perfectly edged beds. They have 1 dairy cow, a Jersey named Cecilia Tidyhorn; several chickens; 2 goats named Sammy and Billy, who are always butting heads; a lazy hound dog named Gracie; and 3 cats.
But this story is about Cecilia Tidyhorn and her friendship with Jenny Springtail.
Now, whether Cecilia gets her gentleness from the family or they get their gentleness from her no one quite knows. But at any rate Cecilia is immensely gentle and patient — just the sort of friend Jenny needed one cold spring day.
Jenny had had one of THOSE mornings. The baby bunnies were crying, nobody could find any clean socks, she had burnt the carrot mush for breakfast, her husband was still sleeping and her oldest daughter had declared that she wasn’t going to finish school but wanted to travel to this place called “Out West.” Suddenly it all became too much. Jenny dropped the baby bunnies at her mama’s and shot across the pastures like a lightning bolt.
Her eyes were stinging from tears and her heart was pounding when she finally stopped. She found herself in a strange field looking straight up at a cow’s behind.
Cecilia turned her head and casually introduced herself. Jenny had never seen a cow before, and had no idea what to do. Her first instinct was to freeze. Cecilia introduced herself again and waited, blinking her liquid brown eyes and chewing her cud. Jenny finally stammered out her own name and apologized for startling the cow. Cecilia just blinked again and said it was nice to have company.
The more the cow blinked the more Jenny talked. The more Jenny poured out her troubles and broken dreams the more the cow blinked and listened. When her story was finally over Jenny sank into the grass, exhausted and deflated.
Cecilia finished chewing her cud.
“You know,” Cecilia said languidly, “Your life isn’t over yet. If you need more than carrot mush and crying babies to make you happy then change something. You are a grown rabbit and you don’t need anyone’s permission to be happy. What would make you happy?”
“Poetry.” Jenny whispered. “I want to read and write poetry again.”
Jenny stayed most of that day. They talked and ate grass for hours. It was the start of a wonderful new friendship. From that day on Jenny would visit Cecilia every week. Cecilia would blink. Jenny would talk or read her poetry. Cecilia had company while she ate and Jenny had someone to listen. Oddly enough, Jenny never burned the carrot mush again.
