I’ve met some people over the last twelve years (from out of state, mostly) that think cheesemaking in Vermont is some sexy, exciting, high profile endeavor involving celebrities; receiving glittering accolades with the occasional national morning show appearance.
It’s not. It’s really, really, not.
Mostly it is sitting around waiting for milk to fill a stainless steel vat, listening to the talk radio repeats from the previous evening, pounding down caffeinated drinks until I get jittery, and trying not to nod off sitting next to the window where people can see me.
There are always people driving trucks past my window in the morning.
|Blue Cheeses in the Curing Room|
We make cheese at 5:00 a.m., so I get to see a lot of sunrises through the steamed-up windows, which is a solid plus. But, on the down side, it’s 5:00 a.m., for Pete’s sake!
There’s a lot of time to think, which I’ve mentioned before is a situation I try to avoid, because it usually winds up being either expensive or loads of hard work.
Is that is a dead bug or a live bug on the floor - or a clump of dirt? I probably need to see someone about getting prescription glasses, because there are a lot of out-of-focus objects these days.
Or maybe I’m just overly tired and need more sleep.
Is the willow tree on the lawn dead? It didn’t seem to have many leaves this summer. Probably ought to give it one more year, just in case it comes back. No sense in digging it up prematurely.
You never know, it just might surprise me.