It really doesn’t matter what kind of day you’ve had once you enter the goat barn. Gone the pressure to be somebody.
In the goat barn there are no bad hair days. You can wear the same overalls and mismatched rubber boots every day of the week and still be accepted.
In the goat barn, no-one expects witty repartee, a knowledge of current events, or even that you remember their name. Just show up and you’re already a star.
Goats bust life back down to basics…food, water, shelter, companionship. The contented munching of hay, the nearly full-grown kids bulldozing under their mothers for milk snacks, the outstretched necks looking for a scratch, curious nibbles in my hair–these life-affirming goat barn reruns never get old.
The easily won trust and gratitude of a goat is a balm in a world where we too often have to prove ourselves.
When I leave the sanctuary of the goat barn, I am at one with myself and my world. In the goat barn I recapture my true essence.
Almost too big for snuggles
At one with the herd
wellspringgardens 