Bearded Lady and her Bearded Goat

I have been wanting to take Henry and Annabelle to toddler time at the Native Earth Teaching Farm for years. We’ve never made it.  Usually our mornings are very slow and lovely. The kids completely disappear in their own play worlds in the morning and I absolutely love making them something warm and delicious–pancakes, oatmeal, english muffins. This morning I had a double whammy of delight and made pancakes AND chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.
I then dressed each child (a lot like trying to capture seals in the water) and finally made it to the car at 10:10 am (Toddler time started at 10). I tried to coerce George into coming by saying we’d only be an hour. He disappeared back inside the house, and I figured he wasn’t coming, so I backed out of the driveway, only to see him running out of the house, one leg in his pants, trying to flag me down. 
There are only three main roads on the island–North, South, and Middle. Still, I managed to get lost. Annabelle sighed and I said, “Annabelle, it’s not about reaching our destination. Getting lost is really fun. That’s when you really find magic!” “I know, Mom,” she replied. “I’m just tired of being lost.”
Luckily, the roads we were on were staggeringly beautiful. 
We finally made it to the Farm, and we were the only car there. George started to laugh. He usually doesn’t do well with things like getting lost or arriving somewhere to find it closed, but today, he rolled with it.
The farm was so picturesque. We were immediately drawn to a handsome little Billy Goat named Joey. This goat had the most gorgeous beard I’ve ever seen–long, think, lustrous, clean. I asked the farmer, Rebecca, who also had a beard, if she brushed the goat’s beard or if he took care of it. She said he took care of it on his own. (I couldn’t help but picture him with a hand mirror and a moustache comb). She said he didn’t like to get it wet and he would run into his little house at the first sign of rain. I love these kinds of details about animals–especially dapper billy goats. As I watched Rebecca talk, I was awestruck by her utter lack of vanity–her full beard, her braless boobs swaying under her layers of farm clothes… One might think I’d let go of some of my own vanity in the face of such earthiness, but one would be wrong. I thought that gorgeous beard was wasted on the goat and would look much better on me–not as a beard of course, but as hair. Seems like a bit of a waste for the goat to look fabulous.
We saw all sorts of amazing animals. Henry was especially delighted by the butting heads of the pygmy goats, and I loved the exotic white royal turkeys. I’ve never seen such beautiful turkeys! They looked like marshmallow snow birds! They’re endangered and the farm is trying to breed them and help bring them back. Annabelle had a verbal exchange with another billy goat, a black one named Blackberry. He would make a mooing sound and she would make it back to him. This went on for some time until she finally said, “This goat doesn’t know how to baa very well.”
On the way home, we stopped for a little picnic at Alley’s. There was a darling weeping tree that Annabelle turned into her house. “That boy can come in here,” she said. “That boy Henry?” I asked. “Yes, that boy,” she said. Henry came trotting over and she swept aside the branches and said, “Come in, Darling, welcome to my house.” They held hands and sat down, and when Henry got up to leave a few minutes later, she said,  “Sir! Gentlemen can’t leave until they help up all the ladies sitting down!” Henry obliged by offering his hand, helping her up. “Oh thank you Darling,” she said, grabbing his head and kissing it. George looked at me. “Where does she get this stuff?” “I have no idea,” I replied.