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The August heat in Stratford clings to the skin like a damp wool blanket, but the shade beneath the canvas awning of Jenn & Larry’s Ice Cream Shoppe offers a fleeting, sugary reprieve. Justin leans against the faded countertop, his thumb tracing the worn edge of his debit card. At twenty-four, he moves with a slower, more grounded cadence than the frantic pop-star energy of his teens, wearing an oversized tie-dye hoodie that looks entirely too hot for Ontario in August, yet somehow works. Next to him, Jaden is a vibrant contrast of high-fashion eclecticism and effortless cool. Balancing a large, surprisingly calm iguana named Diggy across his shoulders like a designer scarf, Jaden peers through the glass display case with absolute concentration.
"The vegan oat milk vanilla," Jaden decides, his voice carrying that familiar, rhythmic lilt. He points a neon-painted fingernail at the menu. "And crush those retro candy bananas on top. The little hard yellow ones. That’s a nostalgic vibe."
Justin grins, a soft, easy expression that rarely makes the tabloids these days. After fourteen months together, he knows Jaden’s ordering habits by heart—the mandatory dairy-free substitutions, the craving for anything that feels avant-garde yet deeply retro.
"Make that two," Justin tells the teenager behind the counter, though he opts for the traditional heavy cream base for his own milkshake, throwing a handful of crushed malt balls into the mix. "And can we get a tiny cup of just shaved ice? For the lady." He gestures subtly to Diggy, who merely blinks her prehistoric eyes.
When the thick, homespun milkshakes are handed over, heavy in paper cups and sweating instantly in the humid air, Justin handles the payment. They step back out into the brilliant Ontario sunshine, immediately seeking the canopy of the mature maples lining the paths toward the Avon River. Walking here feels different for Justin. It’s his hometown, a place thick with ghosts of his busking days, but walking it with Jaden changes the geography. Jaden doesn't see a stark Canadian crossroads; he sees a canvas.
"This water is crazy peaceful," Jaden murmurs, taking a slow sip through his paper straw. He adjusts his grip on his cup, his free hand finding Justin’s. Their fingers interlock seamlessly, sticky with condensation and melted sugar. Diggy shifts on Jaden’s collarbone, her claws anchoring gently into the denim of his jacket as she tilts her scaly head toward the cool breeze coming off the river. "It’s like, architectural in how quiet it is. LA doesn't have this frequency."
"Told you," Justin says softly, bumping his shoulder against Jaden’s. He takes a long drag of his malt-ball shake, the icy sweetness freezing his throat. "It slows your heart rate down. You can actually hear yourself think up here."
They stroll along the grassy banks, watching a family of swans glide effortlessly across the mirrored surface of the Avon. For a while, the only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath their sneakers and the distant, rhythmic hum of a lawnmower somewhere across the water. It’s an intimacy built on these quiet gaps—fourteen months of learning when to talk and when to just exist in the same square footage.
The serene atmosphere shatters in the most ridiculous way possible. Just past the stone bridge, where the manicured park begins to bleed into the wilder, agricultural edges of the Perth County flats, a sharp, high-pitched squeal pierces the air. Jaden freezes mid-stride.
His eyes, already wide and expressive, grow twice their size. "Yo. Justin. Stop. Do you hear that?"
"Hear what? Probably just a bird, babe."
"No, no, no. That is not a bird frequency. That’s a soul calling out."
Jaden abandons the gravel path entirely, his designer boots sinking into the tall, unmanaged marsh grass near a split-rail wooden fence. Justin follows, holding both of their melting milkshakes in one hand to keep his other free, just in case Jaden decides to scale a barrier.
"Jaden, wait up, you're gonna get burrs all over your pants—"
"Look!" Jaden gasps, dropping to his knees regardless of the dirt.
Through the lower gap of the wooden fence, a pink, impossibly small snout is poking through the weeds. It’s a baby pig, no bigger than a loaf of sourdough bread, its tail tightly curled and vibrating with energy. It lets out another enthusiastic oink, sniffing loudly at Jaden’s shoelaces.
Jaden looks up at Justin, his face a mix of pure awe and existential crisis. "Justin. It’s a literal micro-pig. Look at its emotional intelligence. It knows we're here. Diggy, look at your cousin." Diggy remains entirely unimpressed, basking in the sun, but Justin can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest.
"I think he likes your shoes, man," Justin says, crouching down beside him, carefully balancing the dying milkshakes.
A painted wooden sign nailed to the fencepost a few yards down catches Justin's eye. It reads: Perth Farmhouse – Local Ciders, Micro-Grown Wines, & Artisan Grazing. Come Meet the Dwarf Goats!
"Hey," Justin nudges Jaden, pointing at the sign. "Looks like we stumbled onto a whole situation here. Want to go inside? See what they're about?"
Jaden stands up, carefully brushing off his knees, his eyes still locked on the tiny piglet as it trots along the inside of the fence line, seemingly guiding them toward a gravel driveway. "An organic, localized ecosystem with miniature fauna? Justin, this is exactly the manifestation I needed today. Let’s go."
They follow the driveway around a dense thicket of raspberry bushes, and the rustic farmhouse comes into view. The property opens up into a beautifully curated courtyard. Strings of Edison bulbs hang between rustic wooden beams, unlit but promising a cozy evening vibe later on. Local couples and families sit at distressed picnic tables, enjoying charcuterie boards loaded with local cheeses and cured meats.
But the real draw is the enclosed green pasture to the left, where half a dozen Nigerian Dwarf Goats are hopping onto wooden spools and interacting with the guests.
"Oh, this is next level," Jaden says, completely captivated. He sets his half-finished vegan milkshake on an empty barrel table near the entrance, making sure Diggy is secure before looking at Justin with pure excitement. "They have a whole social hour for the goats, Justin. This is beautiful."
Justin smiles, feeling a deep wave of contentment wash over him. He throws their empty cups into a recycling bin and walks up to the rustic outdoor bar. "Let's grab a couple of those local ciders," he says, looking back at Jaden, who is already leaning over the goat enclosure, introducing Diggy to a particularly adventurous spotted goat. "We're gonna be here a while."