Every Saturday evening we urban homestead gals do something radical. We walk our goats. Well, it’s not really that radical concept, but we are in the middle of the city so something out of the ordinary is justifiably a radical act. There’s something about walking goats that takes you back a hundreds, thousands of years. Especially when we sit down on the soft fuzz like growth of new grass on a hillside overlooking the lush Arroyo Seco and the goats grazing on the underbrush or fallen leaves. It’s as if time has stood still and you are transported to another world oblivious of cars, the people for a few moments you are the Urban Heidi’s of the San Gabriel’s all we are missing is Peter (grin)

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  1. Wildside says:

    Still no trouble with dogs?