I am, officially, a Friend of the Amish. Yes indeed, I have been “friended” by some Amish women. Mind you, this is not the same thing as friending a person on Facebook because, after all, the Amish don’t have Facebook. They don’t have computers or the electricity that runs a computer.
This all started several years ago when I found out there was an Amish community about an hour from where I live. I’m intrigued by those Amish. As I’ve mentioned here before, I have been known to stalk them. I’ll drive by them repeatedly, gawking rather shamelessly. I really don’t know what it is that appeals to me about them. Is it their simplicity? Is it their old-fashioned ways? Is it their generosity and unbelievable ability to forgive? Maybe it’s all of it. In this modern world, I find those Amish ways to be refreshing. Now don’t get me wrong, I do not wish to actually become Amish. I love my electricity and computers and such. I also don’t feel led to mother 10 children.
So the other day finds us in Amish country and because I am needing to replace my deceased chickens, we decide to ask at the Amish farmstand if they might have some chickens we could buy. Who wouldn’t want authentic Amish chickens?! I sure would and sure enough, Mrs. Amish lady says that her father-in-law (none other than Mr. Solomon Yoder Jr.) would sell me some for $5 each. Well, I’m feeling super lucky now, so I decide to push my luck further and ask about buying some raw milk. Again, Mrs. Amish lady tells me to run down the road to her daughter’s house (she’ll probably be milking right now, she says!) and she’ll certainly sell me some milk. I’m thinking, “Score!” Mrs. Amish lady and I continue visiting for a few minutes, talking about kids and gardens. She’s so nice and says to just come back anytime we need something. No need to call ahead ( get it? I can’t call!) either.
Down the road we go, finding ourselves at a huge, rambling house with lots of kids and animals in the yard. Here, I meet Emma. She is the mother to 6 littles. And she’s milking a cow. No kidding. She was actually milking a cow with her very own hands! Standing barefoot in her barn, surrounded by an assortment of kids and cats, milking that darn cow. We visited for a few minutes and talked about kids and cows and milk and then she proceeded to take me into her house (a real, live Amish house!) and show me where to get the milk if she’s ever not home when I come. This woman didn’t know me at all, and here she was letting me into her house and being so trusting. It was great and I loved it. We talked for several more minutes and then we left–with a huge smile on our faces and a trunk full of milk.
What a cool adventure. Funny thing, I felt way too garish, standing there in my shorts (they were even bermuda length) and jewelry, with highlighted hair and eyeliner on. Yikes. Even Baby Sarah seemed overdressed in a sunsuit and amber teething necklace. My van seemed too brightly colored, sitting in Emma’s driveway next to her buggy. Hmmmm, sorta gets me thinking……
I think we’re going to try to make the trip a few times per month to stock up on produce, milk, and meat (we found an organic, grass-fed beef farm in the same area). And to help me get my Amish fix.