We left D.C. and headed North, into Amish country, specifically Lancaster County which has about 1300 Amish farms and 22,000 or so Amish and Mennonite residents.  Old order Amish do not own or drive cars; they dress according to a fairly rigid code of dress, and plow their fields using teams of horses or mules.   They are very polite, nice, intelligent people who keep to themselves as part of their church doctrine -- they purposely avoid 'worldly' pursuits and those that pursue them.  What little contact we had we enjoyed muchly.

This is the view from our campsite's 'front yard'.  The town of Intercourse (once called "Cross Keys") is almost entirely a farm town.  Intercourse apparently once meant "a crossing of roads".  Our campground had farms on 3 sides, including the one in the background.  The predominant scent, from our site, was of eau de cow.  It was overwhelming, initially.  We gradually became used to the smell and didn't notice it after a day or two. 

I actually cooked part of dinner for this first night in Amish country -- only the 2nd time I have done so on this entire trip.  I do, however, wash a lot of dishes.

Jordan and Jody enjoy the sunset from our campsite, surrounded by Amish farms.

The day after our arrival, we had a lot of questions about who the Amish were, and why they lived as they did, so we started off with a tour of a reproduction Amish farmhouse, followed by an odd little film called 'The Amish Experience' in "F/X Theater".  The farmhouse tour was good, and the tour guide very knowledgeable.  This helped a lot; "F/X Theater" was touted as very unique, one of only 3 such theaters in the U.S.  We now understand why there are only 3 -- the film and effects were that cheesy.  However, it did give us one more important bit of information about the Amish: Amish teenagers are not baptized at birth.  Youth must choose to join the Amish church, and they typically do so in their late teens -- but there is no time limit.  If they choose not to join the church, they may still have dinner with their parents from time to time, but they may have no other contact with any other Amish.  They become 'English', which is the name the Amish give to all non-Amish, and are shunned.  We discussed this idea, and all of us liked the idea of adult choice.  Apparently about 90% of Amish teens choose to be baptized into the Amish church.

Part of the farmhouse tour included the items of clothing in the photos below, all hand made.  Boys clothes are on the left, and girls on the right.  The only personal choices that can be made is the color of the shirts for boys or men, and the color of the dress for girls or women.  The cloth is always cut the same, and all the black you see never changes.  The wife/mother of the family typically makes all of the clothes -- out of polyester so that they are durable and don't need ironing.

Boy's and men's headwear: black hats with brims less than 4 inches for all months except for summer.  Straw is used in summer.  Brims 4 inches or over are reserved for the bishop.

The Amish do not wish to be photographed, although when or if asked they may agree to be.  So we were rather circumspect in taking the few pictures we have, from a distance only, and never of faces.

This sight was everywhere, preceded by the rapid rhythmic clop-clop clop-clop of the horses hooves.  The practical single day range for such a rig was commonly thought to be 25 miles.  For longer trips, Amish will either take the train, or hire an 'English' to take them.  This has spawned a small industry of retirees in the area who hire themselves out to be periodic drivers for the Amish.

This country is hypnotically beautiful and peaceful, even though virtually all of it is under cultivation.  And, apparently, the Amish don't use pesticides and have continued to farm as their ancestors did.  It feels very safe and tranquil.  It is as if the Amish's presence here for 300 or so years has ebbed into the very soil, infusing it with their values and spirit.  It is very odd, but all of us felt this, and, whatever it is, I think it contributes to why people return here to be tourists in Amish country.

We would often take drives, ambling through the countryside, and would come across scenes like the one below.  The image is somewhat hard to discern: a woman is sitting on top of a horse-drawn plow, working her way down the rows.

This odd picture was taken by Jordan.  That is me, in the middle of a small field, watching fireflies.  The neat thing about this shot is that she captured a firefly while it was lit; that is the small bright spec you see above my head.  It was really magical.   We just hung out in this field, watched fireflies, and listened to an Amish 'Hymn Sing' at a nearby farmhouse.  Prior to my joining them, Jody and Jordan had sat in a wooden swing doing the same.  

I managed to catch one of the fireflies in my hand.  They look a little like elongated lady bugs.  He would not light while I held him, so I let him go.

While we were in Williamsburg, we met a delightful family that we ran across several times during our week there: the Etzweilers.  During one visit with them they asked us where we were bound, and when we replied that we would be up in Amish country in a week or two, they offered to have us to dinner at their home, as they lived in Lancaster.  So, we took them up on their generous offer, and met them on a Saturday.  They offered to be our tour guides for Lancaster (city), so off we went to the first pretzel factory in the USA -- the Sturgis Pretzel factory in Lititz.  For $2 each, we got a quick spiel covering the history of this bakery, including a lesson in how to twist a pretzel prior to baking.  Of course, eating fresh-baked soft pretzels was part of the experience (although we had to pay extra -- 3 pretzels for a dollar).

Below from left to right: Dale, Ellen, Tara, Natalie, Jordan, Joya and me.  Missing from this picture were Jody, who shot the photo, and the Etzweiler's oldest daughter, Abby, who was working during much of our visit.

After pretzels, we saw the Lancaster railway station -- a lovely old stone building in the tradition of European rail stations --  and some of the historic buildings of this fine town.  The home pictured below was renovated from a dilapidated state to its current over-the-top glory.

That evening just before sunset, the young ladies all frolicked in the cornfield behind the Etzweiler home.  A family of fox were known to stalk about this field, but we did not see them during our visits.

Jody and I picked them up the next day, Sunday, and took this one last shot of the Etzweilers.  It was really a treat to get to spend time with them.  Our families were remarkably compatible.  

After we left, we talked about how generous they were with us and with their time -- we occupied their entire weekend, and they were remarkably gracious hosts, feeding us almost continuously.  We were invited to dinner, initially, and didn't mention our dietary handicap.  The Etzweilers had planned to have ribs on the BBQ.  When we sprung it on them that we couldn't join them in the meatfest, they graciously changed the menu.  On our way home from touring the city, we stopped at the grocery store where we aquired a good number of things the Etzweilers had never tasted before.  They were so willing to try new things!  We brought home mangoes, avocados, and cilantro.  We ate out on their deck, at sunset, and spent a lovely evening getting to know each other. 

The next day, Monday, as we were leaving Intercourse, we took back roads, hunting for small Amish children selling strawberries from a wagon by the roadside.  We had found such before.  This time, we found the wagon and berries, but no children were in evidence -- they were for sale for $1 per quart, on the honor system.  Put the money in the can, and take your berries.  We wanted 2 quarts, but were having trouble finding exact change; we were looking in seat cushions, in the bottom of purses, etc., and only came up with one dollar and some change.  We were parked in front of their home for so long that the couple who owned the place came out.  When Jody approached them and explained that we did not have exact change, they insisted that we simply take the 2 quarts -- for free.  They had been picked that morning, and needed to be eaten soon or they would spoil.  When Jody protested, the wife said "my husband has said: no money".  And for her, that clearly closed the issue entirely.  We thanked them profusely, and talked about our time here as we nibbled strawberries on the drive West. 

June 12 - Gettysburg