Henry Making Hay

Not a whole lot of excitement in our neck of the woods this week.  Feels like we’re into summertime now.  Today especially.  Our thermometer is reading 91 degrees, and it’s pretty humid, but the strong breeze makes it quite tolerable.  Seemed like a good day for getting some photos of my favorite subjects, and it worked out well.  Nearest Swartzentruber neighbor Henry H. and his boys were putting up the hay they had cut a couple days ago, and further down the road, Sam H. was mowing his hay field, while his sons put up a new gate in the pasture across the road.  

I wanted to get a series of pictures while Henry and the boys loaded hay onto their wagon, without them knowing I was around.   There’s a wooded area beside the field, so I stuck some leaves in my hat, and hunkered down behind some underbrush.  The green shirt I was wearing blended nicely with the leaves.  Then I waited, and got some nice shots.  I only wish my camera had been set on video for what happened next.  

I’ve always thought the fully loaded hay wagons look pretty precarious, and have wondered if they ever lose their load.  I found out today that they do.  Henry and one son were on top of a load, and almost ready to unhook from the hay loader and head for the barn.  Suddenly the top third of the load, along with the two of them tumbled rapidly to the ground.  They landed on their feet, but a loud, long shout of aggravation immediately ensued.  I can’t blame Henry for his reaction.  It’s hot, hard work loading the hay, and now a big pile was on the ground.  They stood there for a little bit, then decided to go ahead and make another round in the field to get a full load again, while the pile stayed on the ground to be loaded later.  Again, the still-fresh frustration led to a loud, lengthy, throaty shout at the horses to proceed.  G-I-D-D-Y-U-P!!   And away they went.

This wasn’t the first incident that I wish I could have recorded  Earlier, when I had driven down the road in the car, Henry and the boys were completing a load, and they stood on top of the hay, high above the ground.  They were near the road, a ways ahead of me.  The wind was blowing pretty hard, and Henry’s hat sailed from his head - carried much higher by the wind before plummeting onto the road a short distance ahead of me.   I was going to stop and retrieve it for him, but one of the boys beat me to it.  Yep, farming has it’s challenges, but especially so when you see how the Swartzentrubers must do it.  Makes me appreciate the lives of my agrarian Grandparents.  They farmed like this too.  I think that’s the main reason I so enjoy observing the Swartzentruber Amish farmers.  Living history - right before our eyes.

From the Jericho suburbs of Kidron, Ohio, hope you had a good week.  Now have  a wonderful weekend!  So long.

Strawberries!

It is strawberry season!  Every year we look forward to fresh local strawberries, and here we are.  Sure, we can buy them most anytime at the supermarket, where they’ve been shipped in from far-away places.  Those are big and firm, and just sort of okay.  If you want the deep red, full-flavored strawberries, they need to come right from the patch to the table - not grown as a hybrid bred specifically for standing up to shipping long distances.

The last couple days as I’ve driven through the countryside, there are so many Amish families selling fresh strawberries that it makes me wonder if competition will drive down the prices.  I paid $2.50 per quart for ours, but I’ve also seen some for $2.75 and $3.00.  Those are all good prices compared to the local supermarkets.  When I bought mine, the young woman apologized for the size.  The berries were maybe a little smaller than normal for early season.  (As the season nears the end, you expect smaller berries.)  Anyway, she said, “We haven’t had rain for a while, so the berries are smaller than usual.”  Then she grinned mischievously and went on, “But you get more berries this way.”  Yes, you do.  (And a little more work.)  But that’s okay.  They’re delicious!

For the next two or three weeks we’ll be enjoying the berries whole and in pies, but most of them will be crushed and poured generously over Buttermilk Crumb cake.  (Forget shortcake.  Buttermilk Crumb Cake buried under fresh strawberries is to die for -  almost.)  Sorry, secret recipe.  Just kidding.  Actually, we’ll include it at the bottom, and also share some pictures that’ll get the ‘ol mouth watering.

* * * * *

I guess we all know about moving companies like Mayflower, Atlas Van Lines, etc.  I suppose most of us have even heard of the moving company called Two Men and a Truck.  Well, today some movers went past my house.  I don’t know anything about them, and they had no signage or phone numbers displayed, but it seems appropriate to imagine a name for them.  Two Amish and a Wagon.  They went clip-clopping down the road, and I went after them to capture some pictures.  

* * * * *

Remember those mushrooms I showed you a couple weeks ago.  You gave me good advice.  “Don’t eat them!”  So I didn’t.  The old adage is a good one, “If in doubt, don’t.”  However, I learned that they are safe to eat. They are called Mica Cap. (Coprinellus micaceus).  They’re found where wood is rotting beneath the surface of the soil.  I haven't tried them yet, but hope to soon.  They need to be harvested before the gills begin turning dark - and that happens within a couple hours after they first appear.  If you don’t hear from me again, just figure the mushrooms were not identified properly.

Now for the Buttermilk Crumb Cake recipe:

4 C flour

2 C sugar

1 tsp. Cream of tartar

1 C butter (slightly softened)

Mix these ingredients and measure 1 to 1-½ C into another bowl. Set aside.  This will be the “crumb” topping.

Now add the following:

1-½ C buttermilk

1 tsp. Soda

1 tsp. Vanilla

Mix and put into a greased 9 x 13 baking pan, level it, and add the crumb topping.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.  Check with toothpick.

Enjoy it warm with lots of strawberries.  

Just out of the oven.

Food for royalty!

Family picking the berries

From Kidron, Ohio.  Hope your week was a good one.  Have a wonderful weekend.  So long.

It's Time

We've been rearranging our home these past days, incorporating some of Mom's furniture that our family divided up, and getting rid of some of our old-worn-out furniture. In the process we took a long, hard look at the forty-year collection of books on our shelves - shelves, I might add, that are spilling over with books laying on top of the books. Good books! Books that we have every intention of reading again "some day." At our age, we've come to realize that day will probably never come. So we purged. Four boxes of books went to MCC Connections Thrift Store in Kidron. Some went to friends and family who have specific interests in certain subjects. We kept only books that have sentimental value to us, but still have several full shelves. It was time.

Along with that process, I decided to give up my large collection of Mother Earth News magazines. I've had a subscription to that magazine for many years. It was tough to see them go, but what do you with a collection like that? Nearly all the same information is available on the internet, and all it takes to get it is a small laptop.

Again, it was time.

Then I found my stack of Readers Digest and Christianity Today. The articles are so good! I just couldn't part with them. But they're in boxes now, along with Mother Earth News, headed to the thrift store. They will sort through them, and many will end up on their shelves, selling for 25 cents, or in some cases, 50 cents. That's a good deal for some seriously good reading.

This week, Juanita and I were driving over to Apple Creek for our weekly ice cream cone at the Golden Bear ice cream shop. We always get the butter pecan, hand dipped cones - size small. They have the best butter pecan that we have ever tasted. Rich and creamy, with lots of nuts. This is our third summer of making weekly trips to get these cones.

Anyway, as we headed west on Hackett Road, we observed a large farm-field of red, coned-shaped flowers. Neither of us had ever seen anything like it. The field was beautiful, and glowed red in the lowering sunshine. After coming home, Juanita searched the internet and found the name. It is Crimson Clover, and is used as a ground cover-crop.

                                    Field of red.  So beautiful.

           The honey bees like it too.  The whole field was humming.

                                 *           *          *           *

This morning, I looked from the kitchen window into our back yard and saw clusters of mushrooms growing where a tree at one-time stood. Apparently there are still roots under the surface that are feeding the growth of the fungi. Yesterday, there were none when I mowed the lawn. This has happened numerous times before, and by evening the mushrooms have turned very dark. Tomorrow they will be black, and disappearing back into the grass. It finally seemed like I should find out if they are edible.  Take a look at the photos.  Do you know what they are?

I have learned that these mushrooms are indeed edible. They are called Mica Cap. (Coprinellus micaceus). They are found where wood is rotting beneath the surface of the soil. I haven't tried them yet, but hope to soon. They need to be harvested before the gills began turning dark - and that happens within a couple hours after they first appear.

That's about all the chit-chat for today. From Kidron, Ohio, we hope you have a wonderful weekend! So long.

A Few Things I Have Learned in Life

Last Sunday was Mother’s day - the first one without Mom.  This week as I read back through some of my earlier writings, I re-read the lines that were shared here six weeks before Mom passed away - in the writing about Betty Crocker stainless ware.  Will you allow me to re-share a paragraph.  It seems significant in retrospect.

“I’ve got to say it Mom.  You did good.  You did really good.  A long life with no regrets.  A humble and frugal life with a healthy sense of humor to go along with it.  A loving wife and mother.  A grandma with “marshmallow” cheeks to kiss.  A hardworking woman who has lived her life for the good of others.  It’s not Mother’s Day yet, but l’m not going to wait to say it.  I love you Mom.  You’re still the best!”

I read those words to her in March.  She smiled widely, and  chuckled.  She was my biggest fan, and always looked forward to the weekly stories.  I’m so glad I wrote those words to her, and had a chance to tell her those things.  It’s also a reminder to us to tell our loved ones how much we love them.  No time like today.   It could be the last time.  

Once again, thank you for all the kind words of sympathy and empathy.

Now moving on.

I’ve been reminiscing lately about life, and how one goes about learning the lessons that are not taught in school.  Thought it would be fun to share some of those from my own experience.

Life will teach you lessons.  Animals will teach you lessons.  Pain will teach you lessons.  Love will teach you lessons.  Here are a small fraction of the lessons I have learned in life.

A hammered thumb has a strong heartbeat all it’s own…

It’s always best to let go of the nail before swinging hard.

A baseball cap hides low barn beams… again and again.

Slow learners should not wear baseball caps in barns with low beams

Things that you try to jump over are often 2” higher than you estimated.

Walk around objects instead of trying to jump over them.  

Make sure the electric fence is off before you work on it.

Make sure again.

Keep your feet firmly on the pedals of a bicycle built for men.

Failure to do so will cause severe pain.

Chair legs and bare toes are a bad combination.

Keep all chairs pushed up to the table.

A skunk is not a groundhog.

A skunk produces a displeasing odor.

A cat will love you on its own terms.

A dog will love you unconditionally.

A cat will claim your lap for its own comfort,

Not realizing that it’s purring is therapeutic and calming.

A dog will claim your lap because he/she loves you.

A large dog has no comprehension of its size when it attempts to get in your lap.

Cats will lie to you and cry for food when their dish is full.

Dogs will adore you over a stale piece of bread.

Cats are smart enough to bury their poop.

Dog poop on the bottom of a shoe is disgusting.

Never drink cider before long walks.

Always carry TP on long walks.

There may be only one thistle in your lawn.

Your bare feet will always find it.

A turkey will viciously peck your nose of you get too close to the fence.

Don’t squat down to look through a turkey fence.

A yellow jacket can sting many times.
A honey bee can sting only once.

Cows produce milk, which makes delicious cheese and ice cream.

But don’t stand behind a coughing cow.

Roosters will teach you to always watch over your shoulder.

Roosters make very good soup.

You can’t lead a donkey where it doesn’t want to be led.

But you can cover its eyes with a feed sack, and steer it backwards.

Pigs stink.

Bacon is delicious.

Always carry a spare tire.

Spare tires can go flat in your trunk.

When the gauge says empty,

Believe it.

Full bladders are not good traveling companions.

The next rest stop is further than you think.

Amish buggies move very slowly up long hills.

You will find yourself behind them in direct proportion to your lateness for an appointment.

Trailer hitches were designed to help you find your shins.

When walking around the back of a truck, give it wide berth.

Men have a hard time stopping to ask for directions.

Note to self.  Always carry a map and/or GPS.

It is not possible to completely understand a woman.

It is possible to be madly in love with them anyway.  

One of the most powerful words in the universe: Love

Two of the most powerful words in the universe: I’m sorry.

Three of the most powerful words in the universe: I was wrong.

Four of the most powerful words in the universe: Will you forgive me.

Five of the most powerful words in the universe: Let’s go get ice cream.

From rainy Kidron, Ohio.  Have a wonderful weekend.  So long.

Fishing and photography

Fishing used to be a fairly important part of my activity as a younger man when our children were young, and it was a pleasure to take them along.  We fished quite a bit, mostly farm ponds, and nearly always for bluegill and bass.   It was always fun to rise early and go down the road to neighbor Kenneth Weekly’s pond.  He was a kind old man, and seemed to enjoy having children fishing in his pond.  We have many fond memories of sitting on the bank watching the bobbers as the early morning mist rose from the water.   Bringing home a nice catch of bluegill, and cleaning them for lunch added to the experience, and the small fillets were delicious.  The most exciting part of this experience for me though, was when I’d catch a large bass.  Something about the fight, the pole bent over nearly double, and finally landing a fish worth talking about  -- it was rare and special.

These days, my hobbies have changed.  It seems that photography and writing my thoughts and observations have taken the place of a desire to cast a line.  A word about the photography.  It’s the camera more than my skills that produce lovely photos.  Professional photographers know the ins and outs of their equipment, and can choose settings to match the situation -- getting the best photos possible.  I have mine set on automatic a lot of the time, and with a good zoom can get decent shots.  I guess for me, the trick is being in the right place at the right time, and sometimes being lucky enough to recognize a good photo composition.  I’d have to admit that this has, quite a few times, nearly caused me to run into the ditch.  Other times, I find it necessary to slam on the brakes to get the shot that just appeared.  If you’d care to ask Mrs. Ross about these details, she will confirm them.

I get a lot of photos that I like.  Often I share them.  Once in awhile I get the “big fish” photo -- at least to me it seems that way -- and it’s exciting.  That happened a few days ago when I took a short loop ride on the old Goldwing.  There in a field that borders Mt. Hope Road and Moreland Road, right across from the ancient Amish schoolhouse, was an Amishman planting his field with six mules harnessed together in a row.  This was a rare sighting for me, and I took full advantage of the opportunity by stopping along the road at the end of the field.  The man was Old Order or New Order -- not sure which -- but in either case they don’t mind photographers nearly as much as the Swartzentrubers.  As one Old Order Amish neighbor told me, they won’t pose, but if I get pictures as they go about their normal work, they don’t mind.  

I hope you enjoy seeing the mules as much as I did.  Since the man’s hands were full of reins, he couldn’t return my wave, so he nodded a friendly greeting and kept on working as I snapped away.   He came to the end of the field where I was waiting, and made a u-turn with the mules to head back the other way. The planter he was using is usually pulled by fairly large tractors, and was a combination planter/cultipacker.  The mules pulled it with relative ease.  I don’t know how long it took to train those critters, and I don’t know how difficult it is to farm with them, but it looked challenging.  

* * * * *

Last evening we had an enjoyable time at the Kidron Fire Dept Haystack Dinner and Benefit Auction.  It was a community event, and well attended.  It appeared to me that the Amish folks outnumbered the English.  It was interesting to observe all the different types of Amish and Mennonites in attendance.  I saw one Swartzentruber young man, many Dan Church folks (some of them my old neighbors), many Old Order Amish, Church of God in Christ Mennonites, Conservative Mennonites, regular Mennonites, and no doubt a few other denominations too -- perhaps even some who have no church home.  

The auctioneer and his clerk.

The crowd of bidders and onlookers.

Here’s the thing.  On Sunday mornings we go different directions to the churches of our choice, or perhaps no church at all.  We are good friends and neighbors, but we pretty much agree that we don’t all agree on some of the smaller ways we practice our Christian faith.  It’s just the way it is.

However, we share a love for good food, benefit auctions, and our local fire department.  These things bring us together, and folks come out to spend an evening of jovial conversations, meeting new people, eating, and listening to the chant of the auctioneers.    

Giving full attention to the auction cry.

The children would rather be outside playing.

This is not your typical auction.  For those who came to get a good deal, they probably went home disappointed.  The bidding was fast and went high.  I didn’t pay much attention to most items that were sold, but one thing stood out as an example of the generosity of those who want to support our fire department.  One “item” was for two students to be picked up at their home in a Kidron fire truck, and delivered to their school.  The bidding stopped at five-hundred-and-fifty-dollars, and was won by Abe Hochstetler, a local Amish businessman.   He will be donating the ride to two of his Grandchildren.  Then the same thing was purchased again at the same price.  I don’t know who got that one.  But that illustrates how much this community -- the Amish included -- love and support our Kidron Volunteer Fire Department.  Eleven hundred dollars for four children to get a ride to school.  Amazing!

It is a good feeling to be part of this wonderful, generous, caring community. From Kidron, Ohio, the small town with a big heart, have a wonderful weekend.  So long.

This is More Like it

This is more like it!  One week ago, it was really cold and the skies served up an April snowstorm.  Every day since then has been nicer than the one before, and today is as good as it gets.  Sunshine and warm.  We thought our flowers may have been “cooked” by the cold, but they look fine.  The grass is green and growing, the leaves are sprouting on the trees, and dandelions grace our lawn with a bright yellow contrast to the deep green.  Dandelions are considered a weed I suppose, and many people spray their lawns to get rid of them.  I do like a nice green lawn, and sometimes wish mine was weed-free, but when I see these bright flowers raising their yellow heads in full glory, announcing the coming of spring, I can’t help but smile and enjoy them.  Sorry, dear neighbors of mine.  I hope the seeds don’t drift into your yards, but I must continue to view the dandelions as a gift of beauty just as pretty as the tulips and daffodils.  The bees like the dandelions too, and we like the honey.  

One of our honey bees has her proboscis deep into the grape hyacinth, sucking up nectar.

It was a good day for a long walk, so I took my favorite jaunt down Jericho and up Zuercher -- four miles round trip.  As I approached the Jericho Amish school house, the twelve-noon siren made it’s noisy wail from the tower next to our firehouse in Kidron.  Everyday at the same time, the loud sound pierces the air, beginning low and building to a high pitch before descending again to a mere growl, followed once again by silence.  It’s a familiar sound, and a welcome one.  You can set your clock by it.  Then I heard it again, this time coming from a couple miles southeast -- the siren from Mt. Eaton.  It is time for lunch.  Well shucks.  That means I may not see my Amish neighbors working in their fields.  That was one of the main reasons for this walk -- so I could get exercise while observing the bucolic and peaceful scenes of men and horses working the fields.

Road hazard warning

Then it dawned on me.  We are on daylight savings time now -- also known as “fast” time.  The Amish aren’t fooled by the time change.  They know the sun still rises and sets when it is supposed to, and their lives are not governed by the so-called wisdom of “saving” daylight.  Therefore, they do not change their clocks.  What is noon for me is eleven A.M. for them.  They will still be in fields for at least one-half hour, and perhaps one hour before breaking for lunch.

Sure enough, as I continued past the schoolhouse and further up the hill, there was Jecky’s son on the right side of the road, pulling a plow with four horses.  Further back in the field, Jecky himself was also working a field.  A glance on the other side of the road showed neighbor Stutzman harrowing his field.  Then, looking back, a couple Hershberger boys pulling a harrow with four horses appeared up over a knoll.  I walked further up the road and found a good spot to sit on a west-facing bank above the ditch.  This would be a good place to get a nice sequence of pictures.

Jecky’s son ended his furrow near the fence next to their long dirt driveway, raised the plow, and stopped for drink of water from a jug that was sitting next to a fencepost.  Then he hopped back onto the iron seat of the plow and shouted for the horses to go.  They walked along the field-end, next to the plowed ground, and then turned the corner to begin again -- this time headed toward me at a close distance.  From my ringside seat on the grassy bank beside the road, watching the scenes of yesteryear unfold, a warm and pleasant sense of peace settled in, complementing the welcome warmth of the sun on my back.

I like tractors -- especially my little gray 1940 Ford 9N.  I used it yesterday to plow my garden.  It’s always a pleasure to watch the dark soil turning while listening to the familiar sound of the ancient four-cylinder engine.  It takes me down a road of nostalgia -- a road that reaches all the way back to my earliest memories of our family raising a large garden on the fertile, river-bottom soil next to Hog Creek.  And now this.  Watching the soil turn silently behind a team of horses guided by an Amish teenager -- it seems like I should have to pay for a scene like this.  Then I began noticing the sounds of the plow -- a gentle rubbing in the soil, sometimes clunking on stones -- and the clinking of the metal rings that attach the harness to the plow.  As the horses came closer, I heard even more.  All four sets of leather harness were flexing and squeaking in unison as the horses strained to pull the plow.  Even quieter than that, but still noticeable, were the muted sounds of sixteen large, pan-sized hooves rhythmically plodding on the ground, accompanied by the heavy breathing of large, sweaty animals doing what they were bred to do.  Soon the pleasant sounds faded into silence as the horses and the plowboy continued away from me, and it was time to get on with my hike. 

A day like today required a little motorcycle ride too.  The old Wing sat silently in a corner of the garage since late October, and it was time to take off the cover and fire her up.  I kept a battery-tender on it all winter, and stabilizer in the full tank of gasoline.  Those little items make all the difference.  Hit the starter button and she fired right up.  It was a very enjoyable ride over to my Amish bakery where I picked up the weekly pie and bread.

Mrs. Ross just called me.  She’s on her way home from Massillon.

“Hey hon,” she says, “do you want to meet me at Dalton Dari-ette for supper?”  

“You bet I do!”  

And we did.  The place was packed!  It always is on a nice day.  Just seems like the place to go for good food and bumping into friends.   

Maybe we’ll see you there some time.

From Kidron, Ohio, the small town with a big heart.  Come for a visit sometime.  You’ll be glad you did.   Have a wonderful weekend.  So long.