The dark horse story.
Cavallo Nero is Italian for "black horse": the dark horse, the long shot, the one nobody saw coming.
I picked that name because it's my story, and it's probably yours too.
I came to the Olympic Peninsula in 2021. My fiancée and I bought a small farm and started the slow work of bringing it back after two decades of neglect: clearing the overgrowth, repairing what was repairable, learning the rhythms of the land we'd chosen. We came here to be good stewards of a place we love, and to live among people who feel the same way.
I've been working hands-on with every major AI system since the first version of ChatGPT was released to the public in November 2022. AI moves fast, faster than almost anything else in technology has ever moved, and the gap between what these tools could do a year ago and what they can do today is genuinely hard to believe unless you've been in them every week. I've spent years learning what they can actually do, where they fail, and how to put them to honest work for people who haven't had the time to keep up with a field that reinvents itself every three months.
While I was settling in here I joined the Jefferson County Farmers Market board, started showing up at community events, and started asking people what was hard about running their organizations. The answer was always some version of the same thing: too much work, not enough hands, and no money to hire more.
Turns out, AI can actually help with that. And I'm on a mission to prove it to the people who need it most.
There's a lot of fear about AI on the Peninsula and across rural America right now. Fear that it'll take jobs, replace artists, hollow out communities, end honest work. I take that fear seriously, because some of it is well-earned. But fear isn't a strategy, and ignoring AI doesn't make it go away. It just makes sure the benefits go to the people who already have everything, and the costs go to the people who already have the least.
I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen on the Peninsula. I build the practical kind of AI, not the science-fiction kind. The kind that does on Thursday what used to eat your whole weekend. The kind that lifts people up instead of leaving them behind.
Jared
Honest about who I help.
The clients I do my best work for are the ones who don't already have a technology team. The church administrator who's been holding the office together for fifteen years and would love five hours back in her week. The nonprofit director who's also the bookkeeper and the grant writer. The farmer who needs the back office to stop eating into the planting season. The shop owner who needs the website fixed but doesn't know who to call. These are the people I'm built to help, and the people I show up for.
If that sounds like you, let's talk.
Where you'll find me.
Cavallo Nero isn't a remote operation parachuting in from somewhere else. It's a small business based on the Olympic Peninsula and rooted in the community it serves.
You'll find me on the board of the Jefferson County Farmers Market, on the finance committee and the Wednesday market committee. You'll find me at a local book club, at community events, and at gatherings around the Peninsula, talking with the people who actually live and work here about what's hard and what would help. And you'll find me on a small farm in Jefferson County that my fiancée and I are slowly bringing back into working order: the same kind of patient, hands-on rehabilitation work I do for the organizations I serve.
If you're a Peninsula organization doing real work in your community, I'd love to hear from you. The door is open.
Doubt ends with you.
Send me a note or book ninety minutes, whichever feels right.