Slowly, Hare, Slowly

Hare got to the top of the round green hill before the sun did.

Hare did everything fast. He ate his breakfast fast. He washed his ears fast. He said “good morning” so fast that it sounded like a sneeze.

Tortoise was his best friend. Today Hare was minding her garden while she visited her cousin at the bottom of the hill. It would take her all morning to get down and all afternoon to get back up. In between there would be cake.

Hare wanted Tortoise to come home and find her lettuces fat and green, every single one.

On the blue gate Tortoise had left a letter. Hare unrolled it. It was nearly as long as the row of lettuces.

Dear Hare, it said. First, please water the lettuces. Slowly, Hare. I mean slowly.

“Easy,” said Hare, and he was off before he read another word.

He filled the watering can at the well, ran to the lettuces, and tipped it right up.

Sploosh!

All the water came out at once. A little of it went on the lettuces. Most of it went on Hare.

He shook himself and read on.

If you did it fast, you are now wet. Your left ear is the wettest. There is a towel on the washing line.

Hare felt his left ear. It was dripping.

“How did she know that?” said Hare.

He dried himself on the towel.

Now fill the can again, and tip it one tortoise-step at a time. Tip a little, and count to three. Tip a little more, and count to three.

So Hare tipped a little. One, two, three. He tipped a little more. One, two, three. A soft sprinkle came out of the spout, pitter-patter, all the way down the row.

It was the second time he had watered the lettuces. Half the morning was gone.

Next, said the letter, plant the seeds from the blue tin in a new row. Slowly, Hare. I mean slowly.

“Easy,” said Hare.

He dashed off, flinging seeds as he ran. His row went this way and that way, wiggly as a dropped ribbon. Then the wind came over the hill. Whoosh! Up went the seeds, over the blue gate, and away.

Hare read the next line.

If you did it fast, my seeds are halfway down the hill, and your row is wiggly. Never mind. There are more seeds at the bottom of the tin. I always keep more when you are coming.

There is a string and two pegs in the tin too, to keep the row straight. Poke a little hole. Put in one seed. Then do the next one.

So Hare planted the seeds a second time. Now it was lunchtime.

Last of all, said the letter, pull up the weeds. Slowly, Hare. I mean slowly.

Hare opened his mouth to say “Easy.” Then he shut it again. He thought about his wet left ear. He thought about the seeds halfway down the hill.

“Slowly, Hare,” said Hare. “I mean slowly.”

He found one weed and pulled it out, roots and all. Then he found the next. Then the next. He did not hop. He did not dash. He went down the long row one tortoise-step at a time.

Not one weed was left. He did not have to do any of it again.

He read the next line.

If you did it slowly, you are all done, and it is only just after lunch. Well done, Hare. Go and lie in the sun.

At the bottom it said, That is all the jobs. Love from Tortoise. P.S. This letter took me eleven days to write.

“Eleven days!” said Hare. He could write a letter in eleven seconds. But nobody would ever be able to read it.

The very end of the letter was folded over and tied with blue wool. On the outside it said, For supper. Do not read it yet. Not even fast.

Hare did not read it. He waited.

Hare had never had a whole afternoon left over before. A cloud came over the hill, very slowly. Hare watched it all the way across the sky.

* * *

Tortoise came home through the blue gate at sunset.

She looked at the lettuces, fat and green. She looked at the new row, as straight as a string. Then she looked at Hare.

“You’re dry,” said Tortoise. “I thought you might be wet.”

“I was,” said Hare. “This morning.”

“My garden looks perfect,” said Tortoise. “Thank you, Hare. I missed you all day.”

“I missed you too,” said Hare. “Your letter kept guessing everything.”

Tortoise smiled.

She picked the fattest lettuce and made lettuce soup. It took a long time, and Hare did not mind. They sat side by side on the step and watched the sun go down.

Then Tortoise untied the blue wool. She read out the end of her letter, slowly.

“Fast is for running,” said Tortoise. “Slow is for gardens.”

Hare was full of soup, and his eyes were closing.

This time, Hare did not go to sleep fast. He went to sleep slowly, one ear at a time. First his left ear folded down. Then his right ear folded down. Then all of Hare was asleep on the warm step.

Tortoise fetched the towel from the washing line and tucked it round him, slowly, the way she did everything.

The lettuces were fat and green, the hill was quiet, and Hare slept, slowly, all night long.