The Amish live and work here in Oklahoma and Arkansas quietly. They are peaceable folks and mind their business.
They farm and often run dairies and creameries where cheeses are produced and butter is churned to sell. Some run bakeries and their breads and pastries are sought out.
This man in his two-wheeled cart passes through town on an errand with a hat-topped sidekick enjoying the warmth of a summer day.
I wondered as a snapped a photo, what it is like to live the Amish life in the middle of a modern era. What could it be like for a child growing up in the plain ways when all around there is the present and the future passing swiftly and noisily by?
In many ways I think it would be a fine and wonderful way of life. In some ways I find it sad to live in the past as if it were somehow less dangerous.
I saw beauty here in the sheen of the horse’s sweaty sides, in the sky-blue shirt criss-crossed with black, in the little boy’s innocent pose on the board seat, in the red triangle and the ice chest perhaps carrying a cold soda for the child and driver to enjoy when they found themselves safely past the busy intersection.
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There were no roses today––only hyacinths and a few daffodils. I have worked on my spring flowerbeds. I found my white rose bush in the back flowerbeds, my luscious yellow rose bush, and the red/black velvet––a very old bush planted before I moved to the farm 21 years ago––have all died. I will miss them.
I made a trip to town and bought five new rose bushes and my husband helped me dig deep holes for them. The packages were wired shut; the roots tightly wrapped in soil and mulch, then in paper and in the plastic. I cut the wires and stripped away the plastic bags.
I unwrapped a red garden rose, and after adding some potting soil I spread the roots in the holes. Next I set a white tea rose, and pushed the soil in around the thorny stem, resting the graft at the holes level. Then I planted a climbing pink rose, a bushy pink and white mixed rose, and a yellow rose.
I am so looking forward to the growth of stems, leaves, and blooms these roses will add to those lifeless looking plants. I can hardly wait for the warm summer morning, the roasting noontides, the sultry still late afternoons, and the nights of summer that are coming. These bushes will grow fast and soon I will have bouquets to fill my vases inside.
I wonder sometimes who planted the red roses that were here when I moved in. Someday another woman may cut a bouquet for her dinner table and wonder about me.
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“Sometimes when you’re in a dark place, you think you’ve been buried, but actually you’ve been planted. ” Lyli Dunbar
I planted a lily today. I planted an ugly bulb with dirt clinging to its roots. I dug six inches, spread the roots there in the hole, and turned it point up before I buried it it the damp brown soil.
I have hopes for it to thrive there in the dark and to push roots deep and stem high to the sunlight. I have faith it will do so; that by June it will have developed leaves and stems and be bristling with several tight and pointed buds.
I have faith it will get enough water, enough sunshine, and enough warmth to make those buds burst in lovely colored layers of petals, sepals and stamens; that it will draw butterflies and honey bees and flower lovers to investigate its depths and drink in its fragrance.
I planted a lily. I planted soul food today.