Yesterday was planting day and I had plenty of help to get the veggies in. The Amish know their gardening and they waste no time getting the work done. We headed for Frosty Boy afterwards and cooled off with mint chocolate chip ice cream cones. Mmmm!
Last night I took the boys along to Mary Ann's house to learn how to make soap, picking up Betty and Anna along the way. Betty had brought along some home cranked ice cream made with fresh cream too. Mmmm. Walking in at Mary Ann's, I immediately noticed homemade donuts, frosting on several because "she knows I love frosting". Before long, several other buggies showed up and we had a crowd to visit with.
We made vanilla oatmeal soap using coconut, palm, olive, and soybean oil, mixed with lye, distilled water, vanilla essential oil and oatmeal. Once poured in the molds, it had to rest and stay warm for 24 hours. Mary Ann will then slice the slabs into bars and let the soap cure for three weeks. She had made a batch a few weeks earlier and sent us all home with fresh bars of soap from that batch. This stuff lathers great and smells wonderful.
Mary Ann's husband, Dave, took us all out to the barn to see the lambs that had been born recently. What cuties! My boy's wrapped up their night with buggy rides from the Amish kids up and down the long driveway in a little buggy cart pulled by a tiny pony.
We finished off our night with fresh brewed coffee, homemade donuts, and some pretty delicious ice cream!
I am amazed at the dexterity it takes to actually mow your grass with a pair of Belgians and this contraption. I fear if I tried this, a few fence posts and clotheslines would be history.
“Eight year olds do this, Donna”, Irv said as I was standing precariously on the front rail of a hay wagon, a good 12 feet up from the ground. Ben and Chip, a team of very large draft horses, stood before me down below, waiting patiently for my command. Attached to the hay wagon was an old contraption used to rake the hay up. On the flat bed of the wagon stood Nate and Irv, pitch fork in hand and I’d say pretty brave, considering the task that they had just handed over to me. Father waited next to a 1930 something McCormick-Deering tractor with steel wheels. There was a belt system on the side that ran the the McCormick no.49 hay baler. It had an arm with a big fork on it to grasp the loose hay that the boys would be throwing in, and an auger to help things along that could easily eat me and spit me out in 4 seconds flat.
I had watched the Amish bring in the hay many times before and jumped at the chance to help out. As I took hold of the reins and contemplated the sheer mess I could make of it, I had serious second thoughts. Irv urged me on though, so I nervously told the Belgians to “get up” and off we went. What a thrill!
For starters, it was a beautiful evening. 70 some degrees, not a cloud in the sky, and a cool light breeze. Earlier we had made a trip to the ice house to fetch some ice blocks for mother. I drove Wanda, (my 1956 light blue GMC step side pick up truck), so that in and of itself was an adventure. We drove past two neighboring Amish farms, Wanda’s horn bellowing as we went. The ice house is a very well insulated cement block structure, located next to a swimming hole. Five Amish families share it. In the winter, they use a chain saw to cut blocks of ice, and stack them snugly inside. It is black as black can be in there, and we had the worst excuse for a flashlight you could imagine. To make matters even more interesting, I was barefoot.
Nate grabbed four blocks, bare handed, and hauled them over to the truck bed. The blocks weigh about 40 pounds, so between the weight and the fact he handled the freezing things bare handed, I nick named him “Tough as Nails Nate”, or “Nails” for short. Then they covered the blocks with a horse blanket and we headed back for the farm. A supper of corn flake chicken, white rice with brown sugar, fresh black sweet cherries, and blueberry pie awaited our return.
After supper, with weather as perfect as it was, the men headed for the hay field. I couldn’t help myself...I snagged a pair of rubber boots to cover my bare feet and clomped off behind them. Next thing I knew I was 12 feet up with an Amishman at my side telling me how kids with baby teeth do this.
Actually, driving the team is the easy part. The men had to throw the fast arriving loose hay on to the bed of the wagon, stacking it up until it was nearly to my back. So, if I was going to fall, I was thinking it had better be straight backwards. When the wagon was stacked full, I cautiously pulled the team up to the hay baler. The men used the pitch forks to feed the auger and before you knew it, hay bales were being spit out the other end. Mother and Mary Ann, along with a couple cousins from down the road, stacked the bales.
Off we went for round two. I was gaining confidence and started to glance around. The sun was setting over the barn as cows grazed an evening meal. Killer Dog Jack walked along side and chased after field mice as the hay was picked up and they scampered for someplace to go. For as far as I could see, it was pasture, gravel road, and Amish farms. The clothing of the Amish stood in sharp contrast to the colors of their surroundings, making for quite a pretty picture. It was a moment, let me tell you. Since you can’t photograph the Amish, I made sure I tucked away all that was around me into a memory I will not soon forget.
As the sun finished setting behind the barn, the haying was done and Irv instructed me to head for the barn. Now, to get over there, we had to drive through a narrow gate, take a sharp turn to the right around some old thing in the pasture, and then left through another gate, cross the road, and pull up in front of the barn. I would be lucky to get Wanda through it, let alone two big draft horses, a very long hay wagon, and whatever that contraption is that is attached behind that. “Eight year olds ?”, I say to Irv. “Go”, he tells me. Well, I am figuring Ben and Chip have hauled that baggage through those gates enough times before that they could do it with their eyes closed. So on that hope and a prayer, we slid through unscathed, fence posts still standing and we lumbered across the road. The hay contraption was unhooked and then Irv proceeded to bark commands to the horses and they backed that wagon right into the barn just perfect.
The best part about doing anything over at their house is always the pie that follows. Yup, more pie. We all sat around that old oak table in the summer kitchen and shared near death farm experiences (funny now that we’re alive) as we laughed and visited well into the night. Finally Wanda and I hunkered for home under a full moon as my thoughts went over the day with peace and contentment in my heart.
I am very fortunate to have a relationship with a community of Old Order Amish that live in our county. Living without electricity, phones, or running water, the Amish live as our grandparents did years ago. The Amish value their relationship with God, family, and community. I love the colors and simplicity of their life. In this fast paced world, surrounded by all things electronic and fast, hanging out with the Amish keeps you grounded in what is important in life.
Amish buggy horses are usually thouroughbreds or standard bred. Capable of trotting along at a good clip, I found myself wanting a seat belt!
These big guys are Belgians; the choice of work horses for the Amish. Easily standing well over my head, they are referred to as "gentle giants". Amish skillfully drive teams from two to as many as eight Belgians to plow and harvest fields. Get behind these babies with riens in hand and you immediately get the meaning of "horse power!"
The Amish retrofit old wringer washers with Honda gasoline motors to get the laundry done. Clothes are hung on the line to dry. In the winter, clothes are hung inside on lines strung near the wood or coal stoves in the kitchen and living area.
This is the outhouse...these are usually located just out back of the house. Can you imagine using these in the deep winter? Yikes!
