When I was in my twenties and thirties I dreamed of living in a Grecian olive grove surrounded by goats wearing tinkling melodic bells. The herby-smelling warm air. The rustling of the silvery olive leaves in the breeze. The occasional bleating of goats carrying through the gloaming. It all seduced me, yet somewhere along the way I lost sight of that dream. Today I have olive trees in the back garden and a couple of Labradors. It’s not quite what I had in mind, but it works. But whenever I run into goats, as I recently did at Harley Farms in Pescadero, a little scent of that dream nudges my memory cells.
If you haven’t been to Pescadero, it’s a charming small village, just south of Half Moon Bay off Highway One. It’s just far enough inland that even on the foggiest of days you can find the sun trying to break through and warm things up a bit. There’s a serious coffee shop, the Archangeli family’s general store is known for amazing artichoke bread, preserves and more, wine tasting, and a few other cool spots to browse through antiques, knick-knacks and art. This time though, we drove down the main street and took a right in search of all things goat.