On my way to Nedra's

My singing coach Nedra Gaskill has a studio several miles north of Seattle (she has one south of Seattle, too, but I go north), and I love the drive going and coming because of these creatures - two llamas and a herd of goats - that seem to pop out of nowhere. The area is rife with housing projects.

I've wanted to share this scenery with you for a long time, so today I stopped to take pictures.

The dark llama "lost his ears" when he walked up to me - within inches of my nose - on his own. I didn't touch him, because I know llamas are a little stressed when they lay their ears back. They normally only spit at other llamas, but I didn't want to risk an errant spit, 'cause llama spit *stinks.*

Several years ago I "housesat" a farm while the owners were gone for a summer. It was in exchange for food and board while I wrote one of my books.

I took care of the animals, including chickens and cows, huge fruit and vegetable gardens and more.

I would take a walk every day at lunch, and visit a llama farm down the road. I asked the owners if I could hug their llamas; they actually said "sure," without even pointing and laughing at me.

Llamas ordinarily aren't into lots of handling or affection. But these llamas seemed to love it - when I would approach the farm, they would see me from a distance and walk to the fence I would enter, lining up for a little chat and hug.

So every day I'd make my way to the llama farm and hug the llamas as I chatted with them about my book, adventures of the place for which I was caring, gossip about other animals in the area, whatever.

Hugging llamas is very cool. They are soft, cuddly and affectionate. At least the llamas I hung out withthat summer.

These goats weren't baaaaahd, either.