Sitting on a hay bale on top of a wagon pulled by two beautiful and mighty draft horses, I felt the gentle breeze blow my hair. The refreshing wind felt inviting as the hot sun heated the already humid Pennsylvania air. My family and I had been lucky enough to be invited on a tour of the neighbor's Mennonite farm.
Earlier we had gone down to talk with the farmer, as my aunt had been kind enough to arrange an interview. Being from "out west" with only limited knowledge of farming and even less about the Mennonite way of life, I was eager and open to learning anything this farmer would share about his livelihood. Unsure of what to expect, only having Hollywood connotations in mind, we ventured down to the farm.
;)
We pulled up in our massive, touring machine, also known as the dog van. The farmer greeted us with a smile, accompanied by his two young sons. They shyly stood behind their father, keeping a watchful eye on us. We met him near the barns, glancing across at the old farmhouse, complete with long clotheslines filled with the day's wash.
;)
His thick German accent amazed me, as I hadn't realized how this isolated group could maintain their manner of speaking. I learned later that all the children learned German and church services were performed completely in German.
Open for questions, the farmer told me he raised dairy cows and sold milk. He also raised feed for his farm on the land surrounding the farmhouse and barn. Talk about your sustainable farm! He showed us his large tank of milk, from which the trucks load and take back to Baltimore. The shiny stainless steel tank seems too modern in the old wooden barn.
He said times had changed and demand for milk from farms like his had been on the decline. He also admitted a concern with the increased fee the companies deducted for the fuel and travel to Baltimore. The concern on his face said it all, as we realized how our modern world and problems reflected on these small farms.
I was amazed to learn how much food these dairy cows required each day! The farmer had 38 cows for milking, plus several dry cows. Milking occurred twice a day, when the cows received their grain, corn from the silo and hay. They were then let to graze on the pasture for the duration of the day. The farmer had several fields he left to pasture for grazing, which he told me could be cultivated for growing corn.
He proceeded to show my family and me the milking equipment, which functioned by way of a vacuum and run by an air pump. I later learned that his family and church were allowed to use the air pump and generator because they posed no temptation like electricity - as electricity led way to radio or television.
We then spent some time observing and then petting the new calves: a Derby, Holstein and a new crossbred or hybrid, a breed the farmer explained had "more vigor" when it comes to milk production. The curious new calves examined us from the barn. When the farmer offered his hand, they sucked on his fingers like a bottle.
;)
He proceeded to explain what dry cows are - those within 60 days of giving birth, which are not used for milking. This time period let the cows fatten up and strengthen in time to give birth. We also learned what a heifer is - a cow that had not calved. The farmer said he had a field of heifers at another farm.
After this, we took several pictures of the horses harnessed to the manure wagon. The farmer had been spreading manure before we had arrived. He told us our Oregon climate sounded pleasant, as he did not like the Pennsylvania heat. I imagined his duties each day must be hot and tiring but worth the hard work to see his farm running smoothly. He mentioned several projects he would like to have time to complete someday, asking if we shared in this dilemma, of having things we wished we had time to complete. We all nodded our heads in agreement, realizing how similar we all were in that. It was amazing how this small similarity made us all so much closer together.
;)
We marveled at his willingness to share his life with us, taking the time out of his busy daily schedule. I wondered what he thought of us and our interest in his simple life. How did he feel about our ways, our dress, or our manner? I admired his simple life and his dedication.
When the farmer called us later, offering to take us on a wagon ride, we excitedly accepted his invitation, surprised at his willingness to fulfill our curiosity. He had his two draft horses harnessed to the hay wagon, ready for a ride. Six of his eight children ran timidly out of their farmhouse, watching us quietly. We climbed onboard, along with his children and headed into his field. The wagon rolled on four steel rimed wheels, which made for a bumpy ride. The horses worked as a pair to maneuver around the corners of the field. We asked one of his sons, "Do you go out on rides like this much?" to receive a shake of his head, meaning "no". This was a treat for everyone on board.
Although the farmer spoke English to us, he spoke to his children, horses and dog in Pennsylvania Dutch, sounding as close to German as we knew. His sons jumped off the wagon at the short command of their father to open gates or to provide steps for us as we unloaded the wagon. His four daughters stood up front with him, staring at us in wonder. Once he pulled his young daughter close to him, as to say do not stare. The youngest girl even attempted a smile at the young boy of our group.
He pointed to several neighboring fields, saying he used these fields but did not own them. His farm was given to him by his father, with whom we spoke to earlier. The farm is located in a beautiful valley surrounded by rolling hills.
We thanked the farmer as we left, on our way to discover more about the Mennonite way of life, speaking with others of his faith. We were unable to express how deeply we felt for his kindness and thoughtfulness.
Along our way, we stopped by a Mennonite feed store and met a horse harness maker. We chatted with the craftsman and toured the shop, smelling of leather and oils. As we told him where we were from, his eyes sparkled, as he listened and imagined our far off land. During our visit, we were surprised to find that several Mennonites had visited Oregon, for conferences or to visit family, amazed at how long that bus ride must have been.
We met the farmer's father at the local produce store, Whispering Pines. He came back to my aunt's house with us, willing to ride in our vehicle. We ate lunch and asked our questions of him. He told us about Mennonite history, dating back to times in Switzerland. We asked him what the main difference was between the Mennonite and Amish and he matter-of-factly said, "The beard." To him, it was as simple as the Amish having beards and the Mennonite not. We learned both groups are now separated into even more distinct groups, divided by the tiniest differences, like shiny buggy bumpers or the color of dresses.
As his father let us into their small church building, we all noticed the separate church pews for men and women. The plain church building had no decorations or adornments, just wooden pews, and hooks above for hats. The backroom contained antique-looking cradles and cribs, where the women quieted noisy infants. We peeked into one of the song books, fascinated by the German print. Once outside, we spotted the horse shed or buggy garage.
;)
;)
Then we took the farmer's father back to the store and headed to see the young schoolteacher. She joined us in our vehicle on the way to her schoolhouse, outfitted in a long, blue dress and bonnet. She excitedly shared her recent experience with preparing the lesson plans for the upcoming school year. She gave us a tour of the small two-room schoolhouse, paying special attention to her room. The schoolhouse reminded me of a scene out of "Little House on the Prairie", although I felt unsure about acknowledging this association to the group. Although it may have looked primitive compared to our high-tech schools, the schoolteacher was very satisfied with her plans for the upcoming school year. The big bell at the front of the schoolhouse fascinated all of us. Again, we noticed the horse shed, just seeming out of place to us, as did the outhouse.
Although the farmer, his father and the young schoolteacher may not remember us or think they had much of an impact on me or my family, they have made quite an impression on us. Their simple ways, working closely with the basic tools God has provided them is viewed as honorable in my mind. They aren't afraid to get their hands dirty and work hard. They survive and thrive with minimal complications, and seem content with their choice. It makes me wonder if many of us could do better with less.