The women on my mom’s side of the family have a tradition of going to the Ohio Amish Country at least once, and usually twice per year. This started sometime in the early 80’s, before I was born, and the normal crew consists of my grandmother, my two aunts, my mom, my older cousin, and myself. Sometimes other female relatives will join in, as well, and sometimes the group is smaller because of work or other committments, but we always have a good time just being silly, shopping, and eating (the food is incredible!).
We went a few weeks ago, and though I didn’t have my camera out the whole time, I did manage to get some pictures at a farm we visited.
Sometimes I think that I want a farm. I lived on one from birth to around seven, and there’s a part of me that longs for calves in the spring, fresh food from my own garden, and evenings filled with the sounds of frogs and crickets. (Okay, I’m romanticizing a bit – I know that actually owning a farm is A LOT of work, but it comes with such sweet rewards.)
And, you know, sometimes I want an apartment in a major city, with access to art and culture and shopping (!) and every type of food imaginable (!!).
So I guess I kind of want it all. But mostly, I want to live a life that honors God, that places me in the arms of my husband every night, that allows me to someday raise children, and that lets me spend time with family and friends. As long as I have those things, I could be happy as a country or a city mouse.
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