way outside to the waiting
wagon. We placed the food in boxes in the back of an open wagon,
where half a dozen chairs and piled quilts lay. Jonah finished
pulling the harness on his two large horses and turned to us, a
bright smile on his face.
"Shall we? The men are sure to be hungry when we get
there!" he said and climbed up into the bench seat in front.
Fannie followed, settling in beside him, pulling a
dark cover over her head. Hannah was already seated in the back of
the wagon, nestled between the chairs. Emma and Abigail scrambled
up and sat with their backs to the bench, smiling towards me
expectantly. I let out a sigh and climbed in.
Climbed in might be an understatement.
It was more like clawed and scrambled and stomach
rolled once I had a leg up gracelessly to hitch myself into the bed
of the wagon. By the time I had slid up and crawled over to sit
beside Emma, all eyes were on me. I shook my head and hunkered down
holding onto the box that held the pies as we started off. I could
only imagine having to get back down again.
I sat quietly as we rode, the sound of the horses and
the loud rolling of the wagon the only thing I could hear in the
bright day. The sun was already beating down fiercely, and it was
not even noon yet. It was bound to be a scorching day. I squinted
against the harsh glare of the sun to take in the landscape as it
passed by.
Iowa was the corn capital, and at a glance, it seemed
that the Amish did indeed grow plenty of corn. But as my eyes
adjusted to the glare of near midday, I noticed other fields,
brighter here, duller there as we travelled down the dusty road. It
seemed they also grew plenty of wheat and small pockets of leafy
vine plants: grapes and berries and tomatoes. And with every house
we passed, few and far between, there was a large garden beside the
house bursting with life.
There was a fair share of newly turned fields as
well. It was mid summer, I could only assume that crops had been
harvested already and the soil preparing for something new. I
didn't know anything about farming, but it seemed reasonable. I had
to wonder how the Amish survived on just their crops and quilts.
Did they trade with us Outsiders?
Surely they did, and then purchased what they could
not grow or make. There was so much to them that I did not
understand. How could something so simple be so mysterious and
complicated?
I let my thoughts drift as the sun beat down on us.
We made our way towards Elder Wittmer's farm in silence. Emma was
strangely quiet beside me, and Hannah merely ignored the two of us.
It wasn’t far, but with some of the blankets and food, it was
easier to ride than walk I supposed. It was fairly obvious when we
neared the Wittmer farm. The buggies on the side of the road and
the milling people around a field by the house gave it away.
That and Emma's sudden fidgeting.
I glanced her way, trying to offer her some
encouragement, but the look in her eyes gave me pause.
She liked the son, John, didn't she?
Why did she look suddenly ill?
"Are you all right?" I whispered near her ear,
watching as she swallowed and tugged her bonnet over her hair
nervously.
"Emma is nervous to see her John," Hannah teased.
Emma swallowed again and grew paler at Hannah's
words. I had had enough of Hannah and her teasing. But I remained
quiet, not wanting to cause any more problems. Instead I took
Emma's trembling hand and squeezed it encouragingly. I was going to
help her, whatever it took. The wagon slowed to a stop, drifting
backwards for a moment on the slight hill until we turned into the
hill and stopped with a jolt. A few of the men in the field started
to make their way towards us, their straw hats bobbing as they
walked. I glanced towards them, hoping for a sight of the black
hat, but there was none that I could see. I helped Emma with the
box of pies, slipping out of the wagon with a little more grace
than I had getting in. As the men joined Jonah, we followed Fannie
towards the house,
wagon. We placed the food in boxes in the back of an open wagon,
where half a dozen chairs and piled quilts lay. Jonah finished
pulling the harness on his two large horses and turned to us, a
bright smile on his face.
"Shall we? The men are sure to be hungry when we get
there!" he said and climbed up into the bench seat in front.
Fannie followed, settling in beside him, pulling a
dark cover over her head. Hannah was already seated in the back of
the wagon, nestled between the chairs. Emma and Abigail scrambled
up and sat with their backs to the bench, smiling towards me
expectantly. I let out a sigh and climbed in.
Climbed in might be an understatement.
It was more like clawed and scrambled and stomach
rolled once I had a leg up gracelessly to hitch myself into the bed
of the wagon. By the time I had slid up and crawled over to sit
beside Emma, all eyes were on me. I shook my head and hunkered down
holding onto the box that held the pies as we started off. I could
only imagine having to get back down again.
I sat quietly as we rode, the sound of the horses and
the loud rolling of the wagon the only thing I could hear in the
bright day. The sun was already beating down fiercely, and it was
not even noon yet. It was bound to be a scorching day. I squinted
against the harsh glare of the sun to take in the landscape as it
passed by.
Iowa was the corn capital, and at a glance, it seemed
that the Amish did indeed grow plenty of corn. But as my eyes
adjusted to the glare of near midday, I noticed other fields,
brighter here, duller there as we travelled down the dusty road. It
seemed they also grew plenty of wheat and small pockets of leafy
vine plants: grapes and berries and tomatoes. And with every house
we passed, few and far between, there was a large garden beside the
house bursting with life.
There was a fair share of newly turned fields as
well. It was mid summer, I could only assume that crops had been
harvested already and the soil preparing for something new. I
didn't know anything about farming, but it seemed reasonable. I had
to wonder how the Amish survived on just their crops and quilts.
Did they trade with us Outsiders?
Surely they did, and then purchased what they could
not grow or make. There was so much to them that I did not
understand. How could something so simple be so mysterious and
complicated?
I let my thoughts drift as the sun beat down on us.
We made our way towards Elder Wittmer's farm in silence. Emma was
strangely quiet beside me, and Hannah merely ignored the two of us.
It wasn’t far, but with some of the blankets and food, it was
easier to ride than walk I supposed. It was fairly obvious when we
neared the Wittmer farm. The buggies on the side of the road and
the milling people around a field by the house gave it away.
That and Emma's sudden fidgeting.
I glanced her way, trying to offer her some
encouragement, but the look in her eyes gave me pause.
She liked the son, John, didn't she?
Why did she look suddenly ill?
"Are you all right?" I whispered near her ear,
watching as she swallowed and tugged her bonnet over her hair
nervously.
"Emma is nervous to see her John," Hannah teased.
Emma swallowed again and grew paler at Hannah's
words. I had had enough of Hannah and her teasing. But I remained
quiet, not wanting to cause any more problems. Instead I took
Emma's trembling hand and squeezed it encouragingly. I was going to
help her, whatever it took. The wagon slowed to a stop, drifting
backwards for a moment on the slight hill until we turned into the
hill and stopped with a jolt. A few of the men in the field started
to make their way towards us, their straw hats bobbing as they
walked. I glanced towards them, hoping for a sight of the black
hat, but there was none that I could see. I helped Emma with the
box of pies, slipping out of the wagon with a little more grace
than I had getting in. As the men joined Jonah, we followed Fannie
towards the house,
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