late, late summer

I heard the perhaps-barred owl again tonight, just a few minutes ago, and went outside to listen.  It's definitely the same call I heard earlier, eight notes with a pause in between.  And later, as I've been uploading these photos, I've heard a different owl call: one long tone that sounds like it's underwater.  I realize that the same bird can create drastically different sounds, but I think this second one is a screech owl.

Today it became clear that we needed to take an afternoon road trip.  We drove out to a local goat farm, befriended the goats, and bought a pile of cheese and eggs.  We buy their goat cheese regularly at the grocery store, and it's good, but the fresh samples at the farm were altogether amazing.  The proprietor's granddaughter led us into the barn to meet the goats.  I was expecting a setup like the state fair or the zoo, where you reach over the gate and say hello.  Instead, she led us straight back through a milking room and a storage closet and right into the pen.  And there we were, surrounded by a dozen cheery curious creatures that crowded around us, nosing and maaaaa-ing and chewing on our clothes.  I held Eleanor up on my hip, which happened to put her toes right at goat level, and she was alternately concerned and delighted with their curiosity.  It was fun.  We will go again.

We also bought some goats' milk peanut butter fudge, which is very, very interesting.  It's unmistakably tangy yet does not taste like a barn . . . that might not sound like an endorsement, but it is. 

Sadly, I have no pictures of owls or goats to share.  But here are a few from a recent blueberry mission.