Goat Art

The girls take turns sculpting the trace mineral-salt block, each one nibbling and licking until it looks (to me) like polished rose marble.  It takes several months for the herd to work its way through a 50-pound block so the artwork is always evolving and emerging, changing with the angle of light.  To me, it is quite beautiful.

Bessie Anne is the official family time-keeper and tells me if I'm running late for barn chores, morning and/or evening.  She also knows what's good for me.  After a day confined in the house because of rain, Bess felt I needed some time outdoors yesterday.  I was immersed in a book until she went to the door and yipped.  "You need to go out?"  I'd get up, open the door, and she'd just stand and look at me.  "Do you have to go out or not?"  She'd sit down.  "Fine, be that way," and I'd pick up the book.  "Yip."  "Don't make me get up for no good reason," and I'd open the door again.  I got the look.  "What?  You want me to go out too?"  Her tail would wag.  So we went out for a walkabout.  Later (same routine) we sat on the deck.  Still later, we sat on the front porch.  In late afternoon, we went out to the front yard so I could pull more weeds in the lavender bed.  Bessie was absolutely right.  It was a gorgeous day, sunny, with big, fluffy white clouds cruising the blue, blue sky, and a breeze making music in the dry leaves.  I could have missed it all with my nose in a book if she'd not urged me outside.

I got the nicest surprise.  Shortly before sundown, Debbie K. (Debbie "Uptheroad") came to my door with a jar of still-warm homemade tomato soup, spicy and laced with ribbons of basil, and a cheese-stuffed bun just out of the oven.  We had a brief, pleasant visit before I had to put the kids to bed.  The tree in silhouette at last light was too pretty to ignore as I turned to go in the house to enjoy a very tasty dinner that I didn't have to cook.

It was a good day.