High tension power lines from Peach Bottom reactor stretch across this Amish tobacco field near Strasburg; but no wires lead to the farmer's house.
A cutting edge crossing a well-worn cutting board.
I wanted to snap a pic of one of several fields we whizzed by en route to Mechanicsburg where we saw leaves stacked to dry in stooks on the way up; but by the time we rolled back looking for them, they'd already been toted away to their barns. All those barns look damn full, yet plenty more to harvest.
You guys ever stook your leaves?
So verdant. Wonderful soil. A picturesque life. A bountiful God, loved at a natural pace.
In addition to the retired trotters pulling buggies, we saw a couple teams of six Belgians pulling disc harrows, a miniature horse pulling a wee two wheel cart with two five year olds driving, closely followed by their proud papa overseeing their driving lesson from his two wheel gig, wagon loads of harvest headed for the barn, and even a gasoline powered lawn mower pulled by a slow horse.
In Amish country, you see hitching rails in the parking lots of of every hardware store.
I went to Mechanicsburg with my puter hardware vendor, to finish an install at our sister company. He drove his Acura; I rode shotgun. Passing a trio of carts on our way back, he wondered whether these carts were required to buy insurance, like a car. I opined as how they had the best insurance: one another. Last year, several tornadoes touched down in the area, destroying an Amish school and a farm, putting both out of business. By the time the news crew arrived at the house, women were already setting up their field kitchens (they have special carts for this, equipped with everything from kettles to forks), young men were dismantling the wreck of a barn roof, old men sharpening their saws. The news crew interviewed a white bearded patriarch. He said there was another crew at the school who'd have the place ready to re-open by Monday. They hoped to have the barn re-roofed today, the family settled at neighbors, the house next week. No waiting for the adjustor, no arguing with some huge faceless company, no waiting for estimates, contractors, checks to pay them with. No petitions to the congressman to get FEMA off its ass a year and a half later. The best insurance no money can buy. The premium? Pitch in.
We, at the faraway end of that high tension line, we think we're smart, and that they, at their end, they're backwards.