At the beginning of this week, my sweetie and I visited my parents in West Virginia. Almost as soon as we arrived, my Dad asked me to take a ride with him.
We usually have a little ride in his truck where we share what’s going on in our worlds. He drives me through the back roads around the area. This time, the rolling hills were covered with spring green and splotches of red, pink, and white blossoms. His route took us through an apple orchard, the orderly trees coated with white flowers.
When we arrived at our destination, the front yard of the home contained four fibery beings. I leaped from the truck and began taking pictures while my father walked up the hill to greet the owner and do his business.
One of them made her approach.
I’d never seen such an animal. I guessed they were sheep and, when the fellow called down asking if “Philly” had come up to me, I asked what breed they were.
Goats, he replied. Pygora goats. Half pygmy, half angora.
I gasped. Pygmy angora goats? Mini-skeins cashmere on the hoof?
My sweetie has been talking about goats with a little yen in her voice. I resisted her siren call, but now….
My resistance to goats dissolved. So friendly! So soft! So knittable!
I’m starting my research. If they give milk as well? My sweetie will start planning the pen!