Farm Fresh Blog

Sometimes a bittersweet milestone is a hurdle that you expect, like when you carry a cardboard box out the door of a job that has defined you for years. Other times, that milestone is really a tombstone that you unexpectedly stumble over. You catch your breath, and fight back a tear. Yesterday I stumbled over a Tombstone Milestone.

I was making soap and reached into the back of the refrigerator to pull out a Mason jar of thawed goat milk when I read the label: Clover 3-7-14

It hit me like a punch in the stomach. I dug around in the back of the refrigerator. Nope. No more jars. I ran to the chest freezer, and like a four year old flinging toys out of a toy box, I tossed frozen food around in a vain search for another jar. Nothing. The stark reality was there before me. There was no more milk. No more Clover.

She was my very first dairy goat. We learned to milk together. We learned to make soap together.

Clover invited me into the wonder world of dairy goats.

And then I lost her to parasites. Nasty bastards. But as long as there was a stash of mason jars in the freezer, I still had a part of her. Until yesterday.

I almost didn't use it, but what's the point of keeping a jar in the freezer where it can break, so I soaped it up. In my mind that batch is Clover Reserve - Very Special Soap. I will keep a bar for myself. Maybe I'll put it in a shadow box with her picture.

Clover was a special goat. She was my Humming Goat.