Thursday, May 26, 2005
A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST....
We have just returned from a very enlightening and educational trip. For many years I have heard about and read about the Amana Colonies in Iowa. I always thought I would go there someday, but never dreamed it would be in the last few days of my 72nd year. Sunday, Rocky and I drove to his sister’s home in St. Louis, Missouri. Marie and her husband of over 50-years greeted us, along with Ginko, their Siamese cat.
Their home is on a quiet street with lots of trees and well kept yards…..after getting our luggage in for the night, we took a tour of their yard. They have a fish pond in back and nearby a wire basket with moss in it had been selected by a female dove to hatch her young. She sat over her two eggs the whole time we walked around without a hint of leaving. I marveled at her resolution to stay in spite of the four of us talking and gawking. Of course we were respectful and kept our distance. After a good dinner and more visiting, we went to bed for an early start the next morning.
We were up and on the road around 9:00am, traveling north, northwest to Iowa. Northern Missouri flattens out and is much more farmed than southern Missouri where the Ozark Hills and timber make it impossible. We are used to more timber related industry, tourism and raising animals of all kinds. Being born and raised in eastern Nebraska, when I am in farm country, I feel the old roots of mine smiling. I well remember roads traveled as a youngster and the scenery being mostly of corn fields, pig farms, alfalfa and the like. Corn cribs were filled in the fall to feed until spring, along with the hay. I can still smell the aroma of new hay when the loft was filled in grandma’s barn.
Once into Iowa the land became flatter with each mile we drove. The farms were neatly surrounded with patchwork fields of new green growth and plowed ground. I am always amazed how black the dirt is up north. Our dirt in south Missouri is red clay, pretty much, and it takes a lot of years to find the right formula to make the ground produce the desired results. Mulching, mulching, mulching and fertilizing….. also adding lime makes a big difference. If you want over night results, don’t move to south Missouri. It takes time to work it up and over the years you and the ground begin to understand each other. I always picture the process like a spirited horse that doesn’t want to be tamed. Patience, repetition and back-breaking work finally achieve the desired conclusion.
When we arrived at the motel, we were immediately met by Rocky’s brother and wife, Richard and Helen. They drove over from Plano, Il. and had been waiting for us to arrive. Once we carried luggage to our rooms we met in the lobby and then went for a drive to see where we wanted to start the next day. There were lots of options. There are seven Amana villages and each have enough individual charm that you must see them all. We did indeed do that the first afternoon and then decided to go to historic Kalona the next day where we would be able to tour the Amish community, up close and personal. The six of us were the only ones in the large van and our driver was a delightful man. He slowly drove us around to see the many points of interest, stopping at some of the places we could go in and see the craft being produced. Our first delightful stop was the Bakery. Without benefit of electricity, the ladies had a mouth watering array of sweets to choose from. Our driver, Cecil, treated us to a cup of coffee and Richard treated us to cinnamon rolls to go with it. Now I’m a pretty fair pastry baker myself but I have to tell you, those rolls and that cup of coffee were wun-der-ful. We eye-balled some pies and cookies and decided we would come back after the tour.
On to the Wood and Creative Gift building. We were introduced to a gift shop of wood products and then taken back to the shop where the husband and another man were at work. Their ability was amazing and the shop was dust free since the sawdust was sucked out of the building and loaded into an Amish wagon to be used in the barns. Nothing is wasted in Amish country. I wish we could learn from them to be less wasteful. We then went to the Twin County Dairy and saw curds being separated from the whey which would be shipped to make cheese at another location. On the road back to our starting point, we passed two beautiful horses which were grazing on the right-of-way. Cecil stopped to allow us to take pictures.
I bring home many scenes which will remain. The shy girl in the bakery who sold wind chimes to me……she was beautiful, inside and out. The farmers we saw plowing their fields with horses and simple equipment….the white laundry hanging on the lines, flapping in the wind with the dark outer clothes the Amish wear. The gardens at each home…….the many ways the Amish use rhubarb….it is one of their staples…..and a favorite of mine. I think I tried it every way possible. Cecil, the driver, was a jewel. He patiently answered the many questions we asked and filled in the details….a kind man who had worked hard and still found ways to make himself useful.
There was an overall pride felt in the area. The kind of pride felt between man and animal, working the fields together…..their strength mingling to produce food for both of them. The gardens were freshly hoed, the washing on the lines were clean. There was family unity and much innocence. It was quietly evident without having to be announced. My generation is not too far removed from that kind of life. We were raised in the great depression, our parents worked hard and taught us to do the same. We grew up tough and we don’t know a lot about computers or space science but we have worked the ground, worked in small businesses, earned meager amounts of money which came honestly and raised our families without carting them off to a care-taker of some kind.
It was the kind of pride I was born into. Minding your business, doing your own work, lending a hand and not being a quitter. I am not Amish or Mennonite but I felt an invisible connection with who they are. They are who we once were…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
Their home is on a quiet street with lots of trees and well kept yards…..after getting our luggage in for the night, we took a tour of their yard. They have a fish pond in back and nearby a wire basket with moss in it had been selected by a female dove to hatch her young. She sat over her two eggs the whole time we walked around without a hint of leaving. I marveled at her resolution to stay in spite of the four of us talking and gawking. Of course we were respectful and kept our distance. After a good dinner and more visiting, we went to bed for an early start the next morning.
We were up and on the road around 9:00am, traveling north, northwest to Iowa. Northern Missouri flattens out and is much more farmed than southern Missouri where the Ozark Hills and timber make it impossible. We are used to more timber related industry, tourism and raising animals of all kinds. Being born and raised in eastern Nebraska, when I am in farm country, I feel the old roots of mine smiling. I well remember roads traveled as a youngster and the scenery being mostly of corn fields, pig farms, alfalfa and the like. Corn cribs were filled in the fall to feed until spring, along with the hay. I can still smell the aroma of new hay when the loft was filled in grandma’s barn.
Once into Iowa the land became flatter with each mile we drove. The farms were neatly surrounded with patchwork fields of new green growth and plowed ground. I am always amazed how black the dirt is up north. Our dirt in south Missouri is red clay, pretty much, and it takes a lot of years to find the right formula to make the ground produce the desired results. Mulching, mulching, mulching and fertilizing….. also adding lime makes a big difference. If you want over night results, don’t move to south Missouri. It takes time to work it up and over the years you and the ground begin to understand each other. I always picture the process like a spirited horse that doesn’t want to be tamed. Patience, repetition and back-breaking work finally achieve the desired conclusion.
When we arrived at the motel, we were immediately met by Rocky’s brother and wife, Richard and Helen. They drove over from Plano, Il. and had been waiting for us to arrive. Once we carried luggage to our rooms we met in the lobby and then went for a drive to see where we wanted to start the next day. There were lots of options. There are seven Amana villages and each have enough individual charm that you must see them all. We did indeed do that the first afternoon and then decided to go to historic Kalona the next day where we would be able to tour the Amish community, up close and personal. The six of us were the only ones in the large van and our driver was a delightful man. He slowly drove us around to see the many points of interest, stopping at some of the places we could go in and see the craft being produced. Our first delightful stop was the Bakery. Without benefit of electricity, the ladies had a mouth watering array of sweets to choose from. Our driver, Cecil, treated us to a cup of coffee and Richard treated us to cinnamon rolls to go with it. Now I’m a pretty fair pastry baker myself but I have to tell you, those rolls and that cup of coffee were wun-der-ful. We eye-balled some pies and cookies and decided we would come back after the tour.
On to the Wood and Creative Gift building. We were introduced to a gift shop of wood products and then taken back to the shop where the husband and another man were at work. Their ability was amazing and the shop was dust free since the sawdust was sucked out of the building and loaded into an Amish wagon to be used in the barns. Nothing is wasted in Amish country. I wish we could learn from them to be less wasteful. We then went to the Twin County Dairy and saw curds being separated from the whey which would be shipped to make cheese at another location. On the road back to our starting point, we passed two beautiful horses which were grazing on the right-of-way. Cecil stopped to allow us to take pictures.
I bring home many scenes which will remain. The shy girl in the bakery who sold wind chimes to me……she was beautiful, inside and out. The farmers we saw plowing their fields with horses and simple equipment….the white laundry hanging on the lines, flapping in the wind with the dark outer clothes the Amish wear. The gardens at each home…….the many ways the Amish use rhubarb….it is one of their staples…..and a favorite of mine. I think I tried it every way possible. Cecil, the driver, was a jewel. He patiently answered the many questions we asked and filled in the details….a kind man who had worked hard and still found ways to make himself useful.
There was an overall pride felt in the area. The kind of pride felt between man and animal, working the fields together…..their strength mingling to produce food for both of them. The gardens were freshly hoed, the washing on the lines were clean. There was family unity and much innocence. It was quietly evident without having to be announced. My generation is not too far removed from that kind of life. We were raised in the great depression, our parents worked hard and taught us to do the same. We grew up tough and we don’t know a lot about computers or space science but we have worked the ground, worked in small businesses, earned meager amounts of money which came honestly and raised our families without carting them off to a care-taker of some kind.
It was the kind of pride I was born into. Minding your business, doing your own work, lending a hand and not being a quitter. I am not Amish or Mennonite but I felt an invisible connection with who they are. They are who we once were…….
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
