As sweltering summer months meander into crisp fall days, the goats thrive on more moderate weather. They love to cruise the yard and fill their bellies on crunchy fall leaves; they adore the hunt for forlorn rotted tomatoes and brussel sprouts in the abandoned garden. They appreciate more frequent walks now that their mommy doesn't seclude herself in air-conditioned comfort, and they call out to every passing school bus full of noisy children.
Good riddance, steamy summer - but we sure will miss the watermelon!
This year I convinced my husband to cut back on our usual overwhelming volume of labor-intensive, unappealing crops such as hot peppers, cabbage and green beans by the bushels. Instead, we expanded the area for melons (less weeding needed, and no effort picking for me because I apparently do not possess the innate skill to "thunk" a melon and determine prime ripeness. No complaints from me, since whoever picks also has to haul them up the hill, so I meekly acknowledge my deficiency in fruit-selection and avoid that section...)
Cantaloupe and honey-dew graced our breakfast table all summer, but it was the watermelon which truly thrived in the new system. By early August my husband was expertly picking three or four each day, and one sunny Sunday he heaved an entire wheelbarrow of ripe beauties up the hill. We shared dozens with family and friends, but the most appreciative recipients were always Em and Ellie, who eagerly slurped up the pulp and the juice before gnawing most of the rind. Red, yellow, large or small, those goats never turned down a juicy melon and spent most evenings with the sticky mess dried on their sloppy faces.
Oh Ellie, this is soooo yummy! It's such a good life, being a goat. Also, I'm planning to finish your half while you're distracted by that big yellow bus!
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