My Dear Goat, Dusty

by Christina Carson My natural inclination toward intensity tends to bore holes in people if I don’t let up a tad. So in a lighter vein, let me take you back to a time when I had just started farming, filled with the enthusiasm of self-sufficiency and new beginnings. We lived simply in a three-room cabin. No running water. Initially, no electricity. And for a delightful while, no phone. We were going to grow our own food, milk goats for...

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