It’s 91 degrees. It’s lunchtime and I’m sitting in the shade outside a generic office complex with a Tudor facade complete with turrets watching two goats lounging inside a fenced lot.
One goat is brown, the other white.
I just threw a pear to the brown one. He gets up from under his shade tree and sniffs at the pear but ignores it. He must prefer the dozens of wild apples on the ground. The other day I saw him munch one off a branch. Wild. I clapped.
Actually the goats have two fenced lots to lounge around. They also have an old RV that serves as their goat shack. I’m not kidding! The goats’ owners must have gutted the RV and rigged it up for goat occupancy at night. Goats living in an RV. It’s an arresting image and surely one I’ll use in a piece of writing. Like this one.
I’m watching the goats as I contemplate making an important decision about my future. I believe I am allowing myself to be distracted from a large creative endeavor that I need to initiate. It’s been a dream for over 25 years.
Lunchtime is nearly over. But I have a few more minutes left to watch goats. They are a pleasant and calming sight. I wish I knew their names. I might have to name them.