Blog: Tofu, the goat (TYT)

Its name was Tofu.  She was a goat. 

Unpenned and free range, she roamed the mountain.

Tofu ate only organic food: natural shrubs, grasses, and weeds.

In addition to her diet were delicacies such as ganja fan leaves and poison oak.

You’re welcome, Tofu.

My friend Riverina, the shepherd, believed if the goat ate the poison oak, and we consumed the milk, that it would build immunity to the poison plant.  I think it worked!  

Thank you, Tofu.

Drink the milk we did.  Fresh from the teat.  Unpasteurized, whatever that means.  

In granola.  From a mason jar.  With curry.  Frothed in coffee.  

Even the vegans would enjoy.

Gamey.  Strong.  Ornery.  Delicious.  

Thank you, Tofu.  

Jane was a girl we all agreed had to leave the farm.  She seemed…unbalanced, perhaps unmedicated, or untreated.  

Tofu, the goat, had attached herself to Jane.  They were physical, inseparable.  

Quite the pair.  

I had to drive Jane off the mountain, to town.  That included the aromatic aura of Tofu’s ranck, gamey, strong, not savory odor.  Tofu rubbed more off on Jane, than she to the goat.

My truck never recovered.

Thank you, Tofu.

Summers were hot.  Work happened early on the farm.  At noon we’d eat, swim, and nap before working again when the temperature dropped.

Many nap locations were permeable by Tofu.  If you had napped enough according to Tofu, her beard and stench would be in your face with a bleat.  Get baaaaaaack to work.

Thank you, Tofu.

Times changed on the farm.  Season came and went as did people.  

Riverina had been there for years.  Championed my inclusion.  Was a friend.  

After her departure her presence was felt for years little did the newcomers know.

The things she built and painted, her art, reason, tomato sauce and pickles she canned provided sustenance to many.

Thank you, Riverina.

Providing less to more and new people was Tofu.  

Tofu had lost her shepherd.  A close second worse to a farmer without a farmer, is a goat without a shepherd.  

Her milk dried up, or at least they told me so.

New people on the farm brought new ideas and times change.  (That, they didn’t have to tell me.)

It’s evident by my gray hairs, life long lived off of the farm, the longing for subtleties of time past that I can still hear, see, and almost smell (Thank you, Tofu).

No one wanted Tofu and a solution was offered.  In place of one came many.  

There was horn jewelry, a fur hat, Persian BBQ ribs, hearty stew, and Jamaican curry.

Even the vegans enjoyed.  

We harvested Tofu and were fed for a few days.

Her memory lasts longer.

Thank you, Tofu.