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Yesterday, I was driving down Jackson Street–a fairly well-traveled area here on the west side of town. I love to admire the houses along their way. Even though many of them are in varying stages of disrepair, it’s not hard at all for me to imagine how they must have looked in their prime. Add to that, our insatiable thirst for local history and I can tell you that the area up until the last few decades was primarily farming.
Which brings me to my point–the goat in your front yard. Well, she’s not necessarily in your front yard, but you get my drift, I’m sure. I was driving by, looking front, left and right when my attention was caught and held by the sight of a charming she-goat contentedly grazing in a front yard. Now, I know and you know and I’m sure her owners know that she’s not supposed to be there. This knowledge did not concern her in the least. There was grass to be munched and she was the girl for the job!
I grew up with my parents and both my grandfathers owning goats so the brief glimpse of this little doe really gave me a sense of comfort and well-being. She brought back memories of Maggie and Jonathan and Pebbles and the myriad other goats that trotted through my early life and I felt better. How is that? I can’t tell you specifically. All I know is that tension lessened, anxiety ceased for a bit and I felt quite peaceful. I could have sat and watched her for a good while but, alas, I was driving and had places to go and things to do. I left her to her work and I continued mine, a smile on my face and memories in my heart.

I think we all need a goat in our front yard.

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