When we reached the herd, the strokes of the bells merged with the bellows in a familiar symphony. Their moves were never accidental, as we knew why we were there by their side.
The cattle began the trail in the countryside of Tolve. Nearby there is a temple (V century BC) to Mephitis, the Oscan Goddess of the waters, the springs, the sulphurous streams. Pliny narrates that many who entered her temple in Ampsancto died, that many sanctuaries are lethal for those who do not worship the Great Mother. Mephitis is the Goddess of the waters gushing out from the earth, of the waters that return to the earth.
Cowboys always drink from her rivulet as they always cross the lands in awe. Always the same paths, and the sentiment never fades. In the meantimes, the herbs do ferment in the stomachs.
The chance to celebrate the changing of seasons, questa terra maledetta, around the fire with new fellows, again the bellows, with scamorza that tastes like nothing you have ever tasted before, and the chance to inhale good old fresh manure.
Towards the final destination in the Appennino Lucano...
"Do taste the lymph"
