Carrot Cake
When you round the curve on Black Hawk Road in hilly Carroll County, you will see it on the left. In four-foot letters the name “Cox” is spelled out in boxwoods. About twenty years ago Mr. Cox started cutting his hedges into all manner of fanciful shapes. He has had a life-size cowboy wearing a Stetson and riding a horse, an alligator, a bird in a cage, and an elephant two times life-size. One of my favorites is a rabbit eating a carrot. Mr. Cox kind of has the temperament of Mr. McGregor in The Tale of Peter Rabbit. He has even snipped a self-portrait out of his hedgerow. It looks just like him, with a long beard and a farmer’s straw hat perched on his head. I love to go out and visit with him. He is a spirited old gent and he lets you know pretty quickly if he is in the mood for company or not. If I bring him a carrot cake, he seems more amiable.