The morning fog clung to the valleys of Tomales as I drove past farms dotted with cows standing in the mist up to their bellies, content to watch the day unfold as every other day has before. Eucalyptus trees lined driveways leading to the houses of farmers who wake at dawn to tend to their land. Coffee cups long since drained, the early morning for me is lunchtime for those whose day began before sunrise. Much had been accomplished by the time I drove by.
Glitzy big name vineyards and high-profile restaurants haven’t found their way to this lane that winds between hills mimicking the sharp bones and gentle slopes of the hind-quarters of the animals that roam them. This is a quiet part of Sonoma County, where land is still handed down generation to generation, not corporation to corporation. Folks here talk of trips to the Feed & Grain, rather than tastings at Gloria Ferrer.
It was the kind of quiet morning that you see in movies; a picturesque start to a life-changing day.
I made a left onto a dirt drive hugging the pasture where water buffalo congregated, not an everyday site for most people. As in 99.999…% of the population in North America. They raised their large heads to witness my arrival, eyes rich brown and serene, backed by large, leaf-shaped ears, faced forward and out, parallel to the ground. Vikings copied the placement of their horns which grew out from wide foreheads, sweeping back and up, appearing more ornamental than utilitarian.
The fact that the ladies have horns is not lost on me.
They watched me take the hill up and out of sight to a parking area that could have been a much visited lookout on the side of a country road; the valley of Tomales stretched over earth bumps, holding the roots of trees clumped and streaked here and there; fences marched off in the distance, marking lands and reining in beasts. I pulled to a stop on the edge of the lot facing east, got out of the car, took a look around at the buffalo and the land and laughed.
What a hoot. In one year’s time I’ve flown a plane, climbed the tallest mountain in the continental US, swam the San Francisco Bay, the ocean from Venice to Marina del Ray alongside a seal, and cradled a boy with a severed finger laying on the ground between his legs, all while braving the mad, mad world of betrayal and divorce. And now I’m about to make some cheese. But not just any cheese. Cheese from water buffaloes.
Sweet.
At this point I’m waiting for a movie director to say, Cut!
I’m dressed in all white, like the Staypuff Marshmallow Man or Guy Ritchie when Madonna dragged him to Kabbalah services, and surveying a large gorgeous mass of Sonoma County land before heading in to handcraft some cheese. If I had a mirror I would expect to see Michelle Pheiffer or Diane Lane staring back at me.
I was about to do something I had never done before. Taught to me by a man who is choosing the route most unconventional as he enters the world of fromage; creating handcrafted cheese from the milk of animals considered tourists in this land. While in Italy they are considered homeys, bros, long-time residents, honored for centuries for the luscious milk they willingly provide which becomes the most delectable mozzarella di bufala, here they are a feral population. Slim. Nearly none. Forty-four of these magnificent creatures dot the hills of Tomales in Sonoma County. And I am about to become quite intimate with them.
But first I will spend a day with their milk. Turning it to curd, pouring off whey, and melting it into mozzarella. When it’s warm, bathed in olive oil, it’s like like eating love. There. I finally figured out how to describe it. And that’s exactly how I started my day, with warm mozzarella wet with olive oil, set upon a plate on a table in front of a window that looks west toward Bodega Bay.
Wow. How did I get here?
We spent the day in the creamery; two small rooms perfectly sized for cradling the simple yet delicate process of making cheese. I was mainly a witness to the journey of the milk as it was pasteurized, curdled, sliced and diced, and drained until all that was left was a silky pancake the size of a large roulette wheel six inches thick. I slid my hands into the stainless steel tank, down along the sides of the disc, feeling the weight of the curds, each so light and pure, but when drawn together form a solid base from which edible nirvana emerges.
Hours passed as we tended to the cheese in its various stages of development. We talked of dreams, and of those who help shepherd them to fruition and those that attempt to stand in the way for whatever their reasons, in between tastings. Drained whey became ricotta, one batch cooked too long as we laughed over story lines from South Park, losing track of time. That day’s curd was cut and nestled into containers like puzzle pieces as Springsteen and Southside Johnny played on a laptop.
This day was not by chance. I’ve written about the nudging that the Universe and my Mom provided, resulting in me contacting Craig Ramini. You know me, I’m up for any encounter. And I always have high hopes. Within each there are magical moments, meaningful messages, and occasionally life-altering experiences. But I just figured I’d meet some buffalo, have a cool conversation, and make new friends. Taste some mozz and call it a day. I didn’t expect to have the opportunity to shadow the only man in the United States making mozzarella di bufala, sharing with me all that he has learned on his wild, and smartly conceived, pursuit of happiness.
I left the farm that day with a container of warm ricotta cheese that begged for figs and prosciutto and a grill. But The Genius took the grill, so I settled on my cast iron skillet. As Mr. Delicious described it, it was food porn. I actually panted as I slid half of a fig stuffed with a cloud of ricotta wrapped in salty pig into my joyous mouth. He’s right. I could have uploaded that to the web and made a small fortune. If I was naked, a large one. (Note to self…)
I’ve had many opportunities to spend the day shadowing entrepreneurs, for which I am ultra grateful. I am in awe of their energy, enthusiasm, and confidence; their willingness to take risks believing that determination will win out and smarts will undo the obstacles that pepper the path to success. It’s an environment in which I thrive. In the past I’ve left those encounters on a high. I expected that as I drove away from the farm. Later that evening I pondered why my excitement over the experience seemed dialed down, subdued. I couldn’t discern why.
In the morning, as I spread ricotta on my gluten free toast, I fielded a text from Mr. Triathlete. We tried to make plans for the coming weekend. No dice.
Are you free tonight?
I took five minutes to respond. The boys are with The Genius. I have to write. My toes aren’t painted. The laundry has piled up. I didn’t swim yesterday. I can’t be distracted by a date. I’m not a lady of leisure. There are things to do and I have to get to sleep at a human hour so I can rise early. I had gotten out of my 10 day habit of getting up at 5 to write, and it was starting to weigh on my conscience. So many things to do…
Sure!
I just had to go. I crammed in a one mile swim before heading down to the Sutro Baths to meet Mr. Triathlete for the first time since mid-August. Every time we have seen each other I’ve been in hiking pants or a wet suit stripping to a tank, and on the occasion of seeing The Parlotones, a boyfriend sweater, black jeans and boots. I really felt the need to be girly, so regardless of the fact that a walk along the trails was on our agenda and he suggested jeans, I slipped into a long, fitted cotton tank dress with a black and white tribal print and wore my trusty three inch suede ankle boots that had taken me for miles along the Embarcadero. I wrapped a wispy emerald colored scarf around my shoulders and grabbed a shrunken black cardigan that belonged in Audrey Hepburn’s closet.
Racing to beat sundown, I pulled into the only open spot right next to where Mr. Triathlete was parked, on the edge of land. The top third of the sun melted and oozed above the horizon as I came around to greet him. He opened his door, his eyeballs fell out, and his breath ran away.
He needs to get out more.
Our embrace was long and much appreciated. Comfortable and easy. We took to the path and descended to the ruins of the Sutro Baths where we connected as if it had been a few days since our last time together. His arms wrapped around me as the winds picked up, the horizon a swath of plum; a blue heron hunted a fish in what was once one of many pools that nestled in a sandy pocket beach between the tide and cliffs. We gazed upon Seal Rock, the crest of each formation lined with sea birds bowing to the day and welcoming the night.
A crescent moon hung over the water.
And then…
The longest shooting star I’ve ever seen. It streaked from west to east and flamed out like a massive golden firecracker, slightly to our right and straight up. Somehow, we were both looking in the exact right direction at the exact right time to see its entire arc.
After a cheer, we fell silent, marveling at the events of a single hour in the sand at Ocean Beach. For me it had been 24 hours of sensory overload in the most fantastic way. Each and every one got fed and stroked just right. Instead of being all buzzy and bright, I felt soft and grounded, aware of my whole body being connected to the the earth and the man holding me. I felt subdued. And relaxed. Although this was the first time I had been to this beach, I felt as if we were going to turn from the sunset and walk up the porch stairs to our little red farmhouse whose chimney puffed the smoke of a well-stoked fire.
“Cut!”
Love yourself,
Cleo
After my divorce my beloved cousin told me to accept every invitation that came my way. ‘You never know who will cross your path’ she said.
I got the job I have now by being open and willing to try new things, meet new people and experience things that frightened me. I can support my son doing something that is important to me. No, we are not well off by what I do, but my son sees me happy in my job and that is maybe more important.
Do it Cleo, try everything, go everywhere you are invited, chase after what interests you, live in a place that inspires you. If I did it, crippled and sore after a traumatic break up-you can do it too.
Buffalo cheese, who knew!? Did you ever think of it before the pocket call? Look where your mind has lead you! You make me so happy!
xo
L.
L,
Thank you for your inspirational words! And for taking the time to comment.
I wouldn’t have known a buffalo from a bison. From a cow? Perhaps. I’ve always been adventurous, but that spirit was tamped down by my marriage. I’ve got it back now, bigger and better than ever and will never push it aside again. Jewels are hidden behind doors with no signage. By nurturing my intuition, listening to that tiny voice inside, I am able to know which doors are for me to open. Most of the time. I’m aiming for 100% of the time and letting my heart lead the way.
Even if we can’t move much beyond our immediate vicinity, there’s much magic to experience. I’m so very game. I am tickled to know I make you happy! Imagine, m’lady, what you do for me. Stay close.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Just time for a quick note – my favorite post ever! Two comments:
1. He took the grill? How petty!
2. You should wear that outfit to your next divorce hearing.
Keep Writing!
A,
I love that this is your favorite post! You will have to share why that is when you have time. In all fairness to The Genius, he didn’t take much, as if to say, I never liked this stuff anyway. But he did take the grill. Which is fine. My mom bought me my most favorite kitchen item ever – a Le Creuset cast iron skillet. I browned some figs with ricotta in it last night – divine. Honestly, I’d marry that thing. But it doesn’t believe in marriage. I do – as long as it’s with an inanimate object.
Thank you for your kind words, A. You rock.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Way to be adventurous, Cleo! I’ve milked cows and goats but not buffalo — look at you going to the front of the line!
I admire how you juggled and balanced what you needed vs what you wanted. Welcome to life as an entrepreneur. You fake it ’til you make it. And juggling eventually becomes 2nd nature.
Meanwhile, suck everything you can out of every day. That’s the nourishment for tomorrow.
Love yourself ,
D
D,
Love this: “Meanwhile, suck everything you can out of every day. That’s the nourishment for tomorrow.” The momentum builds with each day. If I live my day to its fullest with joy, optimism and enthusiasm I always have a great day. And then that makes having the next day be great a much more likely outcome. (Is that sentence at all close to being grammatically correct?) It’s about momentum, and honoring the gift of a day of life. While a challenge on some days for sure, I’m always rewarded when I choose to be happy, choose to be centered, and choose to do what is needed and feels good.
There’s a couple things I need to fake…thanks for reminding me that it’s okay to do that while moving towards conscious competence. You rock. Thank you for taking the time to comment.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Thanks for your thanks. I love the mutual back-patting and acknowledgment. Because I’m gleaning much relevant wisdom from you while I offer what I know. I’m in a spot of bother right now and your blog & kittens offer much that props me up.
Meanwhile…yeah. It’s like riding a bike. You keep turning the pedals because it moves you forward. You breathe in the air, you take in the scenery, you relax your shoulders and arms, your legs work and work and soon stuff moves into your brain that you never thought would be there. You hike, I bike, and we get our outcomes using our legs and letting our senses go nutsy-cuckoo, and remaining curious.
Love yourself, GF.
M,
Our legs will carry us far. And look good doing it!
Thank you, M.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Recently, feeling especially small and unable to cope, my therapist texted me some coping strategies. She suggested that I draw a diagram with me at the center and list all of the things I have done, people I have met,places where I have been, ways I have grown and ideas that I have had since my husband left me for his HDC six months go and after finding out about the affair 12 months ago. It was a very hard exercise but I did manage to list a few things. The most difficult was ideas I have had. The only idea I could think of was how to re-connect with my husband- and I am in the middle of my PhD in History!
You have grown so much this past year and inspire me to let go and accept what lies ahead.
M,
What a great exercise to go through! It helps us to remember how much we do on our own, how capable we are and how full our lives are and can continue to be even though we are no longer married, coupled, an intact family. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We inspire each other here at HGM. FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.
Love yourself,
Cleo
M,
What a great exercise to go through! It helps us to remember how much we do on our own, how capable we are and how full our lives are and can continue to be even though we are no longer married, coupled, an intact family. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We inspire each other here at HGM. FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.
Love yourself,
Cleo
M,
What a great exercise to go through! It helps us to remember how much we do on our own, how capable we are and how full our lives are and can continue to be even though we are no longer married, coupled, an intact family. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We inspire each other here at HGM. FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.
Love yourself,
Cleo
M,
What a great exercise to go through! It helps us to remember how much we do on our own, how capable we are and how full our lives are and can continue to be even though we are no longer married, coupled, an intact family. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We inspire each other here at HGM. FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.
Love yourself,
Cleo
M,
What a great exercise to go through! It helps us to remember how much we do on our own, how capable we are and how full our lives are and can continue to be even though we are no longer married, coupled, an intact family. Thank you for sharing this with us.
We inspire each other here at HGM. FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.
Love yourself,
Cleo
” FOr all the growth and progress I’ve made over these last few months it is still a challenge to remain optimistic, focused and strong as I move through life, but I’m dedicated to taking each step in style. I want to attract the absolute best into my life – those with pure intentions, peace and serenity, adventure and laughter, joy and love. We’ll do it together.”
^^^^ Yes, this. Together we win.
M,
It just occurred to me that along with attracting the right people and experiences into my life, I also have to be okay repelling those people and experiences that don’t suit me. That has proven to be more difficult than I anticipated. Something to ponder…
Thank you for being here, M. You always make sparks happen.
Love yourself,
Cleo
My dear beautiful friend. What a year it’s been. I found you just when I needed you and you are still an amazing teacher.
I have caught up on 2 months of HGM in three weeks, what a rush!!! It’s been an insane 3 months C. New house, new man, new job and oh, the divorce was official on the 3 August and ex remarried two weeks ago.
So here’s what your first student has to say to you based on your most recent posts. Be kind to yourself. There will be moments that will find you blue for no particular reason but still, you feel off. Roll with it, accept it and slowly shed it. I tend to focus on all I have to be grateful for during those troughs…it works wonders.
The adapting comes with time, and since you have grace and wisdom, I assure you the repercussions will always be in your favour. With cause and effect, the intention is the key. From the outset you have pursued your emotional growth with honourable intentions and always tended to the emotional well being of all concerned, including TG. The effects will be beautiful.
Now it’s time to acknowledge that you are incredible and need to give yourself some tlc. Your kittens are here. We always will be.
She’d the tears, cry a good cry and know that you are loved and cared for.
Btw, when we meet I have that bottle of HGM Parlotones wine
As always
MLP
M,
Yay, she’s back! And with a bottle of Giant Mistake clutched in her mitts! I am very much looking forward to sipping that red with you as we kick back and marvel at how far we’ve come.
I promise to be gentle with myself, and to not repeat the same mistakes because I will be paying close attention to what makes me feel good. That simple focus makes life easy. If it doesn’t feel good, I’m not doing it. Simplify, simplify, simplify. And lead a good, clean life. An honest life. One that brings joy to me and others.
Thank you so much for being here. I’ve missed you and so has every other kitten who loves to read your wisdom-filled words.
Rock on, beautiful.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Wohoo Cleo! What a day! A shooting star?! Do you have astronomy binoculars or a telescope? I am thinking you would enjoy that.
I love the other comment about excepting all invitations …I am wanting to decline all of them right now…attending events single is taking adjustment.
Hugs
Caitlin
C,
I would LOVE to have a telescope. One day it will sit on my porch overlooking the sea, ready to zoom in on the magic of the sky. Lately, I have become so enthralled with sitting under the stars and soaking in the fact that we are simply floating on a marble in space.
Yes, it is an adjustment. This whole experience is such an adjustment! Go when you are ready. Then you will be open to what encounters may come your way. I’m excited to hear about them! Thank you for taking the time to comment, beautiful lady.
Love yourself,
Cleo
You wore an all white outfit to farmland filled with buffalo??? Your optimism never ceases to amaze me! Who else would put together and ensemble resembling snow and handle brown, fuzzy beasts on a ranch? If I were to embark upon the same outing I would have dressed in some old get-up… probably my “paint the house” togs, most likely shapeless, baggy and at least 2 decades old. Yet you live exactly in the moment. You are not afraid to wear white pants after Labor Day! You seize the invitation and dress “up” instead of “dressing down.” Why? Because you are not afraid of life, you don’t believe in limitations and you begin each encounter with a fresh mind and a clean heart. White symbolizes the beginning of an artist’s masterpiece. A white flag is the color of truce. White projects purity. White means a clean slate. The sum of all the colors of the spectrum is white. I distinctly remember learning in middle school that a rainbow is born of white light. White is cotton ball clouds, cold milk, beautiful birch trees…. And fresh buffalo mozzarella. Did you know the ancient Greeks wore white to sleep to bring on pleasant dreams? Cleo, once again you are white hot in your new beginning! You look at the opportunity of each day without the baggage of how it might end up. You are totally able to see the entire rainbow and I am so happy for you! I’m dreaming of a white Christmas!!!
P,
Kittens, I’d like to introduce you to my new ghost writer. Holy arachnid, P, you can string letters into magic! I don’t want to put a pin in your silky, white balloon, but there is an actual reason why I wore white that day.
I was making cheese.
As you make cheese and walk between the dairy, where the buffalo are milked, and the creamery, where the cheese is made, you need to dunk your boots into a bleach solution. In an effort to not trash my fabulous clothing, it was suggested to wear white. I also imagine it’s easier to spot things like a 15-inch long, red hair barely clinging to my shoulder, seconds from becoming one with the curds, on a white shirt.
Hence my special attire. And don’t you know I rocked it like only white in October can be rocked. Also know that I feared being seen out in public so I changed at the creamery!
Thank you for making me laugh. Hard. You rock.
Love yourself,
Cleo