Although, come to think of it, the whole day had that August feel to it. Very cool morning (yay), a little rain, and then just general cloudiness. While I was doing chores this afternoon, the fog began to move in very quietly from Round Pond harbor, which made me think of Carl Sandburg’s poem “Fog” (1916)
The fog comes / on little cat feet. / It sits looking / over harbor and city / on silent haunches / and then moves on.
It was a quiet day here on the farm. I spent the morning trying a batch of goat milk mozzarella, and it was quite an elegant failure. I probably should not have used any citric acid. The curds got glossy and stretchable, but never made itself into “real” mozzarella, just kept rolling around. It’s firmed up in the fridge now and I may be able to use in in a baked ziti or something, but it’s not what I set out to make. I will be trying again soon, though. :*)
In the meantime, the chevre is going well, and I continue to crank that out. I have to get a new backlog into the freezer for next winter. I would hate to be without that, and so would many of our friends, I think!