Landing home.

From Oaxaca to Portland

I landed back in Portland Thursday night — the air cool and damp, the streets shrouded in gold and crimson leaves. The familiar mist spread across the green horizon. The pile of wood near the fire I tend. The goats bleating their greetings from the barn, a new face among them, our visiting buck, Rafi. I am dreaming of baby goats in the warming sun of ne…