That's my accountant on the right, laughing

When I taste our cheese, I know it flaunts our hundred-year-old pastures and the brisk saltiness of the winds off the Pacific, but I'd go further. The French word terroir, about how wine or food expresses the region in which it is made, is all-encompassing: you can taste soil, climate, culture and tradition. And we've got such a tasty town here!

We took a break on Wednesday to watch the town Halloween parade. The sheriffs close the street, there's a stream of witches and devils and ghouls from the local school, all the businesses bring out candy, and the local park ranger always takes the day off to appear in elaborate disguise. It's small-town nirvana.

Of course, when I was seventeen I couldn't wait to run from my parents' small town, but now I appreciate the quirkiness and the conviviality of tradition. We have a vibrant farming community, and you taste that in our cheese.

I have my parents' neighbor Tony here for a month ' though he could probably stay for years given the dollar to sterling exchange rate. It's always fun showing visitors around, and he has milked, pasteurized, and painted the barn with our new goat milk paint. He even likes the cheese!



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