spoiled goats, fresh cheese: Blue Heron Farm

Over winter break, we went out to the country to visit my childhood friend Christian and his wife Lisa at their farm.  They make  the yummiest goat cheese ever, and I’m completely enchanted by their life.  I’m totally amazed by Lisa, who is always so warm and sweet to us, and who writes a very lovely blog about farm life.

Christian and his brother and sister were big friends of mine when I was little.

(That’s Christian and me on the left–circa 1977.)

They lived in our neighborhood.  We carpooled to pre-school.  We took vacations to the beach together and, later, to Colorado to ski.  Christian in particular, and his brother Hunter, were my pals.  I didn’t have brothers, and so almost everything I knew about boys, back then, I learned from them.

I’m sure I played with other kids plenty in those days, too.  But I remember playing with these guys more than anyone else (except my roller-skating next-door-neighbor Mary Ellen).  We had sleepovers.  We squirted mustard all over our jeans.  We went on bike rides.  We explored.  We saw snow for the first time together (at age 11, no less!) I was kind of a tomboy, and I loved palling around with them. And man, did they make me laugh.

I’ve made a point to visit Christian and Lisa a few times in the past year to do research for the novel I’m writing (on sale in 2012!), and it’s been fun to see them.  One time, my daughter and I got to sleep over at their house, and in the morning we collected eggs from the barn for breakfast.

There’s something very special about seeing the people you played with as a child when you’re an adult.  It’s like they know something very important about you.  Even if neither one of you can remember anymore what it is.