Goat Milk Soap

 

Since I spend a lot of time with my soaps, I think of them as my friends.  I give them different personalities and I thought you may like to see them the way I do.  Meet Cheyenne, my Goat Milk soap.

Cheyenne

 

She’s creamy pure with skin soft as Cashmere, but she’s not the pampered kind who’s all dressed up with nowhere to go.

No. She’s Cheyenne, the one who’s already at work in the barn before the sun peeks over the rolling hills in the distance. Her dusty brown boots are damp with caked-on mud as she leads the herd through the pre-dawn milking ritual. Greeting each one by name with her gentle coaxing, they know and trust her as they line up in order and then head back to their cozy grass-lined pens once their work is done.

 

 

She wipes her hands on her soft, worn, faded Carhartts and squints into the bright orange sunlight as it fills the sky. Then this farm girl climbs up on the old green Deere to chug her way back to the big house for a hearty breakfast, but not before raiding the chicken coop of a couple of dozen newly laid eggs and a bucket for collecting some wild berries on the way. “I’ll have to put some of these up soon,” she promises herself, and pops a few into her mouth just to be sure they taste ready for jam.

 

 

Jumping from the tractor, Cheyenne heads to the back porch screen door, smelling Ma’s coffee percolating, but stops to pick some tall ragweed by the fence as Lacey, her chestnut mare, makes her way over, snorting playfully, to greet her mistress.  Cheyenne coos softly to her frisky friend and offers a nibble of the tall grass.  “I’ll be back to take you for a nice long gallop through the back field a little later,” she whispers, looking forward to a good run once her chores are done.  But first, some fried eggs, homemade sausage, fresh-picked wild berries with a splash of fresh cream and a nice steaming mug of hot coffee. The screen door squeaks as she heads into the kitchen and the door bangs shut behind her. A long day awaits, promising the reward of a steamy shower later that evening with a frothy lather of goat milk soap.

 

 

Mama always says, “You may be tough enough to chop wood and toss ten bales of hay, but when you go out, you show that you’re a lady.”  And you know, Mama knows best.

 

I hope you love Cheyenne as much as I do.

Yours in Gratitude,

Angela