Grape Juice

Dave here on a very lovely Saturday evening. Oven-stewed tomatoes are baking, and deer hot-dogs are on the grill. Fannie Miller's fresh peach pie will be dessert. Going to be some good eating shortly. In the meantime, let's reminisce a little.

I was born at a very young age, and therefore remember very little about it. Earliest memories, though, include a very loving mom and dad who would give great group hugs with little ‘ol me sandwiched between them. That was special. Wish it were still possible. It would probably be awkward now, and besides, they are no longer with us. It was a time to cherish. It was too soon gone. I suppose threesome-hugs also happened with my older brothers. I’d have to ask them.

Earliest memories of my brothers include playing softball in the yard between the house and barn, hiking along Hog Creek, playing with cats, getting rides on motorbikes, and having them teach me how to ride a bicycle. Those are some of the good memories. There are also memories with my brothers that would be better forgotten. Those involve mean horses, unwanted rides on cows, electric fence “experiments,” and wrestling matches that sometimes turned ugly. They likely remember those times too. Ah well, we all survived. That’s just part of being a family, and we laugh at all our escapades now.

Other great memories include food and drink. Mom and Dad always made sure we had enough to eat, and it was a blessing (though we didn’t think so at the time) to be included in the work of gardening and putting up food for the winter. Untold quarts of canned tomato juice, red beets, cherries, applesauce, peaches, and green beans lined our basement shelves. Lima beans, corn, and beef went into the freezer. Oh, and jelly and jam - lots of it - both frozen and canned. And probably many more things that I’ve forgotten.

There was one more item that we canned in the early fall and enjoyed on a weekly basis through the winter. Grape juice. Every Sunday evening the menu was the same. Popcorn, apples, and grape juice. To this day I still make grape juice every year exactly like Mom made it. It’s very easy, and when the jars are pulled off the shelf on the cold, blustery Sunday evenings of winter, (some traditions never die), the sweet flavor of Concord grapes takes me on a delicious trip to yesteryear. Popcorn tops off the experience, and we’re back home on the farm at Elida, Ohio, with a Mom and Dad, and a bunch of brothers.

* * * * * *

A little rain began falling this morning, so it seemed like a good time to make this year’s grape juice. I had harvested them from our arbor a little over a week ago and put them in the basement refrigerator until today. As previously mentioned, it’s very easy. I use ½ gallon jars with two heaping cups of concord grapes and a heaping ½ cup of white sugar. Then I fill the jar with hot water, snug on the lids and rings, and put the jars in the canner for a hot-water bath.

Pressure cooking is not necessary. Hot water bath is faster and just as safe with grapes. With the water level at the top of the jars, and a lid on the pot, the water is brought to a rolling boil, and maintained like that for about eight minutes before the burner is turned off. The jars are removed from the canner to cool on the counter-top. It is best to let the jars sit on a shelf for a few weeks before using the juice. There may be some variations on how this is done, but that’s how I do it, and the juice always turns out fine.

Ah, the sweet memories. There are so many. Today I’m thankful for those times when we were included in the labor of planting, harvesting, and putting up for the winter. It’s a practice that I still continue, and I don’t even remember when I learned how to do it. It was a loving Mom and Dad who did the teaching, of course, but we learned it without even knowing we were learning, and here we are once again, doing it and reminiscing with fondness the days of group hugs and sweet Concord grape juice.

The rain didn’t last long. Before finishing the canning, the sun shone brightly, inviting me to do the outdoor work. It’s time to put the garden to bed again. Seems like we just planted it. The beans, corn, and tomatoes did great this year. It took some watering, but it was worth it. The shelves are lined with food for the winter. Fall is upon us. Time moves on, and the wheels on the bus go round and round.

This time of year comes around only once every twelve months. It’s a good time to get out and enjoy the great outdoors. From the lovely land of Kidron, Ohio. So long.

Back to School

We've been enjoying the splendid weather here!  It's a nice break from the summer heat, but then, it is September. What!? September already? Seems like summer goes so fast, but the cooler weather of fall is always nice. A few mild weeks, then the pretty colors and frosty nights, and then.... we won't talk about that just yet. Let's enjoy the seasons as they come. Technically, it's still summer, unless you're a student.

Speaking of students, they're all back in school now, hitting the books and playing soccer. At least that's the life for my grandchildren who live nearby. I think my Michigan grandchildren go back to school right after Labor Day. Their Momma has been counting down the days. It's great for the children to get a summer break, but the Mommas need a break too. Hooray for September!

The Amish children began school this week. This is a good time to remind everyone in our area to drive cautiously in the mornings and mid-afternoons. The Amish kids walk along the roads - sometimes in pretty large groups. It pays to watch out for them. They are kids, after-all, and don't always look out for themselves as carefully as they should.

A group just got out of school at Jericho yesterday right after I walked past. They were energetically singing a song as I passed the school. I paused to listen. It was not familiar to me, but they sang with great gusto, and the sound carried quite well out through the open windows.

I spoke with a lady from church earlier this week who was a career school teacher in a public school. She's retired now, but still has a love for education. She visited a number of the Amish schools in our area recently and spoke with the teachers. She learned that the schools in our area have an average enrollment ranging from about 20 to 30 students. That's all eight grades. When you drive the roads around here, it seems like there is a small Amish school about every three miles or so. Some are used only by the Swartzentruber Amish, and others are primarily Old Order. They do mix some though, depending on the neighborhood mix of Amish.

We're going to wrap up this post with some pictures below, and a few comments to go along with them.

From Kidron, OH, we hope you have a wonderful weekend!  Hug your loved ones. Tell them they are loved. Make a child smile today. So long.

Beech Grove School.  One of the most well-known Amish schools in our area.  Just south of State Route 250, on Kidron Road.

This is probably the oldest, and is named "Johnson" school.  It was formerly a public school. The nameplate above the door says 1909. It looks to be in poor shape. But here is where the Amish students learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. Eight grades of it. The classes are taught in English. Until they go to school, the Amish kids don't know much English. Their teachers are usually young Amish women who are still single. There are exceptions to this. I knew one married male teacher. 
 He lost his life two years ago in a horse-and-wagon accident. He has been sorely missed. He left behind a dear widow and six children. He truly loved teaching.

"Jericho Amish School."
This is one of the newest Swartzentruber Amish schools in our area.  Not far from my home.

Amish Summer Harvest

It seems impossible to get enough of the beauty around us - particularly the Amish way of life in our area. You'd think we would get used to it, and barely notice it anymore, but that's not the case. Perhaps my early years on the farm along Hog Creek marked me permanently with a love for noticing the crops, and appreciating those who carve out an existence from the soil. And on top of that, a lifelong enjoyment of doing things the "hard" way - like our Grandparents did it. Perhaps it fills a need to connect with our history.

I know for a fact that when I walk the roads around here and view the beauty of God's earth, it brings health for today and hope for tomorrow. On the days when I don't walk, there is something missing, and it seems like I've cheated myself. When the news is discouraging, it is time for a walk - a time to reflect on what is good about life - and a time to be thankful. We are blessed more than we deserve.

Check out the photos. There will be some comments with each one.

Wheat shocks adorn the field in front of an Amish homestead.

Bringing a load of shocks to the barn for threshing to separate the grain from the stalks.

A nice Amish family leaves a plate of pastries on the cans full of milk.  Lucky milk hauler.

This is a field of spelt shocks.

An evening sun glows on a field of wheat shocks.   The windmill is a promise of water for the thirsty, and the shocks are a promise of food for the hungry.  God provides.

From the lovely town of Kidron, Ohio, wishing you a wonderful weekend! So long.

Amish Crist Hershberger and the Bus Station

Got a call this week from Crist Hershberger, a Swartzentruber Amishman.  He’s a brother to Jacob and Sam, and he lives in Southern Ohio, near Peebles.  That’s where Jacob and his family moved to a few months ago.  Crist and his wife Mary needed a ride from the Canton, Ohio Bus Station to Brewster, Ohio.  They were coming north to attend the funeral of a dear old neighbor.  I mentioned to Crist that I’m not a regular driver for the Amish.  He knew that, but said he was running out of people to call. It didn’t suit anyone else to drive for them, and he remembered that I had taken Jacob’s family to Peebles when they moved.  He thought maybe we could help them out.  

So I said, “Sure, it works for me, I’ll pick you up.”  

“The bus will come in at 7:35 on Friday evening,” he explained.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

I had met Crist once before, and liked him immediately.  He’s outgoing and friendly, and his English is almost without a dutch accent.  A good storyteller too.  I guess that goes well with the fact that he is also an Amish preacher.

We decided to make an evening of it, and Juanita went along for the ride.  Our first stop was Papa Gyros for a Greek meal of salad, lamb, rice, and fresh, warm, chewy pita bread.  The plates were piled high and it was all delicious!  We could have gotten by with one meal.  The prices were really good too.  If you like that kind of food, you won’t be disappointed with Papa Gyros.

From there we headed to downtown Canton where the bus station is located.  It was easy to find, but it was our first time ever to go there.  We expected to see a parking lot, and thought we had found it.  Just as we pulled in, a glaring policeman began walking rapidly our direction, gesturing dramatically to get out of there!  We rolled down the window and asked where we can park.  He must have met other ignorant people like us quite a few times before.  His patience was pretty thin.  He told us in no uncertain terms that this was where the buses come in to load and unload, and if we didn’t get out of there immediately, we’d be fined two-hundred dollars.  Then he pointed across the railroad tracks to a small gravel lot that was full of potholes and puddles.

“Park there,” he said.

The bus station is on the intersection of Tuscarawas and Cherry, and is close to the red-light area of Canton.  As we sat in the gravel lot waiting, a few folks of unknown intentions walked down the street, and this small-town fellow felt really out of place.  I would not want to sit there after dark.  I told Mrs. Ross that I wanted to go into the station and find out if the bus is on time.  The lady behind the window wouldn’t look up to answer me.  When I asked, she confirmed that the bus was due to arrive, and would pull along the building on Cherry Street. This just wasn’t a very friendly place, it seemed.  So I hustled back to the car, pulled onto Cherry and found a parking spot along the street.  This was much better.  And there came the bus.  Two friendly faces smiled widely at us as they disembarked.  Crist and Mary seemed just as happy to see us as we were to see them.  And what a merry conversation we had as we drove them to their destination.   It seemed as if we had known them for some time.

This family of Hershbergers, (Crist, Henry, Sam, Jacob, and their other siblings) are exceptionally nice people in my opinion.  Every one of them that I know, has followed in their parents footsteps as genuinely good people.  Their parents, Crist Sr. and Lovina, have always had a good reputation in this area, and have always been respected.  Crist Sr. died quite a few years ago, but Lovina still lives on the home farm with Sam’s family.  She’s in her eighties.  One thing I’ve noticed in particular about the Hershberger men.  They treat their wives lovingly and respectfully.  That is not the case in all Swartzentruber Amish homes.  In some, the men really rule the roost.  It is always expected that the men will be the head of the home, but some take it too far.  I guess it’s that way with some English families too.   

Ah well, that’s enough for this week.  It’s been a good one.  We received the rain that was badly needed.  The crops are perking up and looking nice again.  I’m adding some photos of neighboring farmers working in their fields.

Making hay.  Even the little boys help by following and picking up loose pieces.

Trying to load heifers into the wagon

Cultivating the corn.

From Kidron, Ohio. So long.

Song 606 In the Mennonite Hymnal

We went for a drive earlier this week (my wife and I), and enjoyed some territory that we don’t often see.  Our route meandered on small roads south of Kidron, heading into Holmes County, before swinging through Millersburg and then losing ourselves again on tiny roads through idyllic hills and Amish farms on our way back north.  

One road in particular caught my attention, and it was suddenly necessary to burst into song.  Juanita, dear wife that she is - a gem who is rarely surprised at my moments of unpredictability and spontaneity - she looked at me quizzically as if I was falling off my rocker.  I don’t blame her.  She just wasn’t making the connection.  I pointed out the road sign - number 606 - and then she knew why I was singing.

For many of you, that number is meaningless, but if you’re a Mennonite, it’s a number of special significance.  Really, it is.  Number 606 in “The Mennonite Hymnal,” is a song titled  “Praise God From Whom.”  That particular hymnal was published in 1969, and that particular song very soon became a great favorite, sung with gusto and joy in acappella four-part harmony.  Many years ago it earned the label, “The Mennonite Anthem.”  Don’t let the title fool you.  This is not the regular doxology by the same name.  This one always makes the hairs stand up on my arms when singing it while being surrounded by many other people lifting their voices together in praise.

A later hymnal, now more commonly used in Mennonite Congregations, “Hymnal, A Worship Book,” also includes the song, but now it is number 118.  But make no mistake, for Mennonites of my generation, it will ALWAYS be 606.

I’d love to think that many of you will take the opportunity to listen to the song on the following link.  Garrison Keillor and Prairie Home Companion visited Goshen College a little over a year ago, and this song was part of his program - sung by the Goshen College Chamber Choir and the audience.  Really, if you’re interested in learning about something the Mennonites love, listen to the song, and while you’re at it, get a nice cool glass of tea, and listen to about fifteen minutes of the show.  After the song, Garrison sings a humorous (but true) song of his own writing about the Mennonites, followed by a short segment on the history of the Mennonites in his own humorous and inimitable style.  Please have a listen.  You won’t be sorry.  (And if you’re a Mennonite, or from Mennonite roots, it will not surprise me to learn that you had to hum along - perhaps even sang along with great enthusiasm.)  After clicking on the link, turn your volume up, click on the little black arrow, and enjoy!

http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/listen/?date=2015/05/02&identifier=apm_audio:/phc/segments/2015/05/02/phc_segment_02_20150502_128.mp3

From Kidron, Ohio, where the dad's are homely but loving; where the mom’s are pleasant and beautiful; and where the children love to spend time playing ball with Dad, and eating Mom’s fine cooking!  Kidron is  a wonderful place to live and raise a family, and a great place to visit.  Come and see us sometime.) :)

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.