:: goat everything ::

:: JMJ ::

 

:: The two main rules that set the foundation of home education in my family: 1) One is always learning (even without a book) 2) If one gets into a car, one is going on a field trip. And so, the other morning,  mom and I hopped into the Subaru and headed off on a summer field trip.

Our errand was to pick up a jar of honey from a neighboring farm. While we left supplied with honey, we also spent our morning in the company of some very lovely goats and a sweet little summer farm kitchen that had been converted into a soap making space. I had a delightful time.

My first goat memory is quite vivid. I was four, maybe five years old, and mom had taken me into a friend's barn to visit their goats. Being a chilly day, I was wrapped in my purple winter coat. My, at first appearing dull, goat friend was apparently taken by the purple hughes of my jacket, and in no time, had chomped a corner of it between his teeth with the characteristic stubbornness of a donkey. Although mildly traumatized, I no longer saw my bearded companion as dull, but rather, quite vivacious. It was at that moment, that I caught the goat bug.

I still have a passion for goats, so I could not think of a more agreeable way to spend a morning. We met some goats that were so happy for a visit and a scratch or two, and even now, my nose is filled with the lovely smells that filled the soap kitchen. It was a perfect morning. Armed with a few extra treasures, back home we went. Jar of honey, a few bars of goat soap, plenty of goat stories, and even a sweet cup of fresh goat milk. Lovely. ::