I love goats.
Goats love me.
I think they must've sensed my experience with their kind. I had the privilege and pleasure of milking a pair of Nubian dairy goats twice a day--morning and evening--for several years. Their names were Marilyn and Suzie, and they were the dearest creatures. My family drank the milk, and we made cheese from it.
This one wanted to kiss me, too.
The sound of a quarter dropping into the goat chow machine brings the entire herd charging over.
Not sure why these guys were banished to the bog.
Isn't this a lovely goat? Hasn't she been busy? Check out the side of that barn.
The above specimen appears to be one of the rare Arapawa goats--the ones Captain Cook let loose in New Zealand. (If I saw them when I travelled there, I don't remember.)
Not a goat.
We went inside the shop, where a vast array of goat milk products and other items were on offer. Scented soaps, facial scrubs, insect repellent, goat cheese, jams, bath bombs, scented creams, lavender spray to freshen linens. (Items in boldface were purchased or tasted or sampled by me.)
The proprietor had to leave her till from time to time to check on a white nanny goat in labour in the barn. We saw the kids inside her, moving and kicking. But they hadn't pushed their way out by the time we departed, laden with goat products.
The afternoon was so sunny, warm, and mild that we kept driving. And shopping. We stopped at Red's Shoe Barn in Dover, where I bought a pair of white summer shoes and a pair of black sandals that will be extremely useful during the impending Nor'easter and blizzard/windstorm/flood due to arrive tomorrow. I found them on the clearance table, marked way, way down. And at check-out they took off an extra $5 per pair. Screamin' deal.
We continued our journey all the way into Berwick, Maine. Returning to the Granite State about fifteen minutes later, we fetched up at Newick's on Dover Point for fried clams, crabcakes, and onion rings. It was low tide, Great Bay was calm, the lobster buoys hardly moving.
Our final stop was the supermarket. We stocked up on fresh fruit and veg, plus stuff we can cook on the burners of the gas range if the wind knocks our electricity out.
At sunset the sky was pink and lilac.
After such a peaceful, gorgeous day, I can't believe what's about to happen, but we're taking all the dire warnings seriously. Filling the jacuzzi tub, filling plastic water jugs. Digging out the battery-operated radio. Keeping the flashlights close by.
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