While early dusk settled across downtown Portland, the sun still shone brilliantly orange a mere fifteen minutes away, casting long and dappled light onto Sauvie Island.
"Sorry, I take pictures of poop," Shanna Schlitz ruefully shrugged as she crouched over an unidentified specimen with her iPhone.
A few weekends ago, Justin and I, along with several friends, drove the ten miles from SE Portland to Sauvie Island, on a pumpkin picking quest.
You'd be forgiven for believing that goat herding, as a profession, doesn't exist in the United States.
We booked tickets for a Plate and Pitchfork farm dinner as soon as we moved to Portland.