My Life as An Amish Wife

by Lena Yoder

  Year 4

  Summer

  After eating a big noon meal of mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, grilled BBQ meatballs, tossed salad, and a grand finale of baked cream pie, I am stuffed and ready for the recliner. But, alas, I am not that lucky. This happens to be a Saturday. A gorgeous, 70-degree, lazy breeze, awesome kind of summer day. I am rejoicing that so far it has been a very normal day. Not just thankful—more like thankful from the depths of my heart kind of thankful. Lately we have had some stark reminders to really be thankful for our ho-hum kind of days. We never know when the Lord has a big change of plans for us.

  This morning after Wayne and Brian had a breakfast of fried potatoes and tomato gravy, and I had my banana, yogurt, and granola medley, our day began in earnest. Wayne and Brian got the six horses hitched, and Brian headed to the field to finish up the plowing. They are pretty well on schedule this year. Brian has done a lot of the field work while Wayne was at work. That has been a major plus.

  After a cold, wet spring, it has now been dry enough to get a lot done in the fields. For those of us living here on this heavy clay soil, this week has been a blessing in getting the field work done. If the weather holds out, they hope to get the planting done this next week.

  I let the four youngest sleep a while longer while I washed the dishes from breakfast and last night’s popcorn, iced tea, and pop party. I cleaned the kitchen counters, shined the outside of the fridge and stove, scrubbed the sinks and toilet, dusted the furniture, and watered the houseplants. By that time the children were awake and getting used to the fact that their mom now wants some of their precious time. Usually they are very involved in our weekly cleaning, but I kind of liked the idea of having some quiet time all to myself.

  They were still lucky enough to have things to do to help me out the rest of the day. Karah emptied the stairway and swept the upstairs hallway and stairs. She watered Colleen’s plant upstairs and did numerous other odd jobs. Emily washed the door windows and mirrors, swept the living room area rug so I could put the furniture on it, making it easier to sweep and mop the floor. Jolisa took the throw rugs outside to shake off the dirt and hang them over the porch railing to air out a while. I then let them play a while as I swept and mopped the floors.

  While the floor was drying, we cleaned up outside, trimming along the walks and sweeping and washing off the walkway. That trimming job took me back to my childhood because we had to use the shears today to do the trimming. Our weed-eater needs to go to the fix-it shop. The girls helped me, and it was okay. It just took more time. I remember trimming was a longsome job before and how we rejoiced when we finally got a weed-eater. Sure wish that they’d be a tad more people-friendly. Usually it gives me the fits getting it started or else the string doesn’t want to cooperate.

  Anyway, the girls took the trash out to be burned, I repotted a fern, and somehow the time slipped away from us. Suddenly I realized it was high time to get lunch made. The men do not like their noon break wasted on waiting for lunch, so we needed to hurry. I quickly dashed to the basement for potatoes and then filled the pot with water to heat to get a head start while I peeled the potatoes. In the meantime, Karah lit the gas grill and helped me mix and shape meatballs that she then grilled and slathered with BBQ sauce. Emily made a salad. Jolisa set the table and ran errands for Karah at the grill. All went well, and I don’t think the men waited more than a minute or two.

  I like to make a full-course meal like that on Saturdays, especially since Wayne has a day job off the farm. That’s a special time to all sit down together for a meal. Sure, we eat together in the evenings too, but I hardly ever make mashed potatoes and the works for supper. I prefer lighter suppers. If I cooked mashed potatoes all the time, I’d have to walk four miles daily instead of the normal two.

  I transplanted the asparagus patch this spring with hopes of enlarging the patch because we never have enough to satisfy everybody. I sent one of the children to dig up the roots, but she was soon back saying she couldn’t dig them out. Oh come on, I thought. She must not be trying hard enough.

  I suggested to Wayne to take the skid loader and dig them out, but he thought surely I could just dig them out with the shovel. I couldn’t either. Wayne tried with the shovel too, and he couldn’t. So he went and put the forks on the skid loader and finally got out those roots. We were in for a big surprise. I’m guessing those roots were three feet deep.

  Wayne moved them to the west garden where we had dug a trench to put them in. We then covered them with a generous layer of calf manure and straw. Once it started to warm up, we had hopes that they would grow. We watched pretty closely. The patch is beside the path that leads to our phone shack, so each time we walk by on our way to use the phone we check to see if we can find new shoots. We made a funny sight one evening when most of us were kneeling beside the patch to see how many new shoots we could find. Once we had several, I made soup with those.

  Asparagus Soup

  Asparagus soup is really simple to make. I sauté the chopped asparagus and some chopped onions in butter, thicken with a bit of flour, and add some milk and water. I add salt, pepper, and some cheese if I desire. It’s ready for the table.

  A gully washer of a rainstorm just came up, and Brian got majorly soaked. It’s coming down hard. I can’t see quite clearly, but it appears he only had several rounds to plow to finish up. Should have been a half hour earlier this morning or when they went back out this afternoon. Oh well, could have been worse.

  Jolisa smashed a thumb while closing the windows in a hurry. Ouch! Now she has another excuse when it comes to dish-washing time.

  “Mom, I need to be here Monday night to play this, and I need to be there Friday night to play that, and we friends want to go shopping on Wednesday night…” That’s the story around here this summer with a 16-year-old living in the house. I’m not complaining, but it is something to get used to. I depend heavily on Colleen when she’s home, and it looks like it is slipping from my hands as she has plans to start working at a local bakery. I had a hard time adjusting to the fact, but I know it will be a good experience for her. I am thankful she has the opportunity to work in a Christian atmosphere. I will need to step up again and work at a brisker pace, and the three younger girls will have more learning experiences, which will be good for us all. I hope.

  We don’t need to water our seedlings tonight. It is still raining hard. This rain should make the things in the garden grow. The radishes were up in three days. We’ll be eyeing those too. I need to plant melons and potatoes yet. Maybe a bit more corn if space allows. Usually I freeze around 90 quarts of corn, but I won’t this year. We still have a lot in the freezer. I guess we got kind of tired of it and ate more peas this last year.

  The rhubarb is really nice this year, and I finally have enough of our own. I baked a rhubarb cake, and now I promised Wayne I’d make him a pie next week. I also want to make rhubarb torte for him yet, and then maybe I’ll try my hand at some jam or else some juice. I like it thickened with some Jell-O, and then I eat it with cottage cheese, but really, rhubarb is easy on my diet. I can easily pass on those dishes. For Wayne’s sake I keep trying to like it. Maybe someday.

  This spring we were invited to my sister Leanna and her husband’s place for Sunday dinner, and she made dandelion gravy. That was new for us. I’d never tasted it before. I liked it okay, as did Wayne, but my honest opinion? The bacon and ham make the gravy. I could hardly taste the dandelion greens. It was fun, anyway. Leanna and I taught our children to talk in “pig Latin” that day. I’m not too sure that was a good idea because they sometimes drive me crazy now with their chattering. Keeps life interesting.

  I’ve heard a lot of people say they didn’t get the strawberries this spring as they had anticipated. Some of us came to the conclusion it’s because the plants did not get the sunshine they needed while they were blooming. We had a wet, dreary spring, with very few sunny days while the strawberries were in bloom. We got enough to eat fresh, and I need
to be satisfied with that. I saw in town a five-quart pail of freshly picked strawberries was priced over $14. Too much for me to pay, but I know if I’d be in the picking end of the deal, I’d want a good price too. Strawberries are a lot of work.

  One of my absolute favorite food combinations is vanilla ice cream and fresh strawberries. I’d love to fall into a big bowl full of that and eat my way out. I used to crave chocolate cake with it too, but that has gotten too sweet for me. I’m glad because I don’t need those calories.

  I’ve also learned to like strawberry shortcake. My siblings and I didn’t grow up with that dish as Wayne’s family did. Several of the children really like it too, and I suspect with time the rest will too.

  Fresh garden lettuce sandwiches are on the menu tonight, along with strawberry shortcake. We eat a lot of radishes and green onions too. One of my sisters-in-law gave me a salad spinner to try out, and I’ve decided it’s a must for garden lettuce. It does save time drying that lettuce. It is really important to get all those crunchies off the lettuce or my family is turning up their noses. (Crunchies are specks of garden dirt.)

  Karah and I planted the keeper potatoes the second week in June on a hot, humid day. We made row markers with the seeder, put the potatoes on top, and covered the whole area with straw. Now, it’ll be interesting to see what size of crop we will get. Hopefully we’ll have better luck then we did last year.

  The red potato plants look like a picture. I’ve only sprayed them once for bugs, plus I put fish fertilizer in the sprayer too. We use an organic bug spray for potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, broccoli—actually just about any fruits and vegetables. I had bugs on the tomato plants too, but the spray seemed to take care of those in a hurry.

  The children and I mulched a lot of the garden with straw. The soil needs the organic matter, plus I thought it would lessen the weeding this summer. We’re not getting lazy, but who doesn’t want a break every once in a while? I love to open the west porch shades in the morning and look out at the garden. I let my mind wander to God and his many, many blessings. What an awesome privilege I have living here in the country surrounded by nature and all these people I so dearly love.

  This is the first summer we have been able to keep Baltimore orioles here. They usually just pass through in the spring. This year Brian built a feeder, and we put black raspberry jam out that was crystallized anyway, hoping the orioles would like it. It appears that they do enjoy it.

  The feeder is in the flowerbed right outside the east living room windows. The other morning I was sitting on my dilapidated recliner trying to wake up and get my mind focused on the day ahead, when I heard a peculiar loud chatter at the window. It sounded quite earnest. Upon investigating, I saw an oriole perched on the window screen, seemingly trying to tell me something. Then he flew to the next window screen and did the same thing, before flying to perch on the tree. I promptly went out and filled the empty jelly jar. That oriole made my day.

  We were happy to have gorgeous weather to put up the first-cutting hay. Wayne and Brian chopped 10 acres and filled a forage bag. Then they round-baled 10 acres. I got lucky enough to drive the team to bring up the bales. It was warm and gorgeous. Then a day later we had a nice, slow rain. I imagined the hayfields soaking up that beautiful rain.

  The first cornfield did not fare so well. Right after Wayne had planted that field, we had a lot of rain and the ground got too hard. Brian ripped up that field again, and Wayne replanted it. One of our neighbors had to do the same thing. It takes lots and lots of patience to farm, but for some reason we still love it.

  Yesterday Emily had an appointment at the eye doctor in Shipshewana, so I was gone most of the day. Now today we went to a discount eyeglass place in Topeka to order her glasses, also stopping to buy fabric to sew clothes for the children. It took a wad, but I figured with what I saved by getting the discount eyeglasses, I could get fabric for three pairs of pants, four dresses, and the notions it takes, plus have money left over. It worked on my nerves to spend so much time on the road—14-miles round trip both days, but I thought I had to squeeze the most out of our dollars.

  Colleen now works at the Rise and Roll Bakery four days a week. She likes her job even if she has to get up at 3:30 in the morning. It’s a good experience for her and the rest of us too. I miss our time to talk the most. I am thankful for the days that she is home, but lately it seemed those days I wasn’t at home.

  I decided I must cut out all the clothes this afternoon from the fabric I bought this forenoon so I can sew every slip chance I can get. The girls need the dresses for school, and I must stay at it. All too soon school will start again. The sewing machine has been dormant, but some way, somehow, that must change. I much prefer gardening and enjoying the great outdoors in the summer, but motherly duties call. I’ll enjoy the sewing too, once I get to it.

  Golden cobs of corn dripping in butter and salt grace our table these days. Munching on corn-on-the-cob with a family of eight is fun. Everybody sounds the same, and we can just eat to our hearts’ content! Frying some bacon and then adding all the garden goodies, plus some sausage, to make a stew is a wonderful one-pot meal we all love this time of the year. It is healthy, and I can eat gobs and gobs of it and not gain an ounce. One drawback, though, is the time it takes to get this food from the garden to the table. But you know what? It is economical, educational—simplicity at its finest—and an awesome privilege to have from our heavenly Father.

  We had never taken a family vacation with our six children, but for three days in July we splurged and went to Holmes County, Ohio, to visit some friends. We filled a treasure box deep in our hearts with wonderful memories. Warm circles prance around our hearts when we reminisce, which we do quite frequently. The Holmes County scenery, to say the least, is beautiful.

  Thursday afternoon, upon entering Holmes County, we stopped at several friends’ places to chat a bit. At one place we were treated to some delicious black raspberry Danish pastry and lemonade.

  We then traveled to the Andy Weaver and Michael Miller farm, where we have special ties. We are deeply connected with losing our moms the same year from similar health issues. Our families have many similarities. We enjoyed an evening of walking around their rolling dairy and chicken farm. Then we retired around the campfire and enjoyed s’mores and donuts we’d taken along from the bakery Colleen works at.

  Jesse has some smashing memories from his stay in Holmes County. While riding a bike, as little five-year-old boys love to do, he took a flying ride down the hill, lost control, did a somersault, and skinned his elbow. It cost a few tears. He’s not used to riding a bike on hills. In the wee hours of the night, I heard a thud and flew out of bed to investigate. I found Brian and Jesse coming down the hallway toward the bedroom they were staying in. Jesse was crying, and Brian was proclaiming what a big baby he was as only big brothers can. Jesse had been thirsty, and Brian thought it not necessary to get up at that time of the night, but he did take him to the bathroom to get a drink. They didn’t have a flashlight with them, and it being an unfamiliar house, Jesse turned too soon to go back down the hallway. He flipped down the stairs, crashing into the closed door. Poor little guy; I pitied him so. He could have had a bad injury, but luckily he was okay.

  On Friday, Michael and some more friends, the Daniel Millers, gave us a grand tour of their community. I loved seeing the old homesteads on winding country roads. In the evening we were loaded onto a flatbed wagon to be entrusted to our young friend Brandon’s tractor driving skills on those domineering hills of theirs. We joined a group of about 30 people on top of one of these hills for a picnic. I don’t know which was best—their delicious supper that was set up looking like it belonged on a magazine page, the fabulous view, or the wonderful fellowship. Combine the three, plus the fun our children had with their new friends, mix it all together and just imagine. I thanked the Lord for connecting us.

  Saturday we spent the day at Michael and Rhoda’s farm, visiting with more friends, eating
, going on another hayride, and simply enjoying the day. Our farm boys swam in the muddy farm pond created by a little dam. Sometimes the only clean things on them were their eyeballs.

  Alas, all good things must come to an end. We started for home around 4:00 PM. I couldn’t even stay awake for more than 30 miles. One tired, but happy bunch came home around 9:30. Sam was overjoyed to see us. He’s one spoiled dog.

  Sunday evening several neighbors came to hear about our trip. We sat in the shade on the east side of the house, close to the road, talking, eating popcorn, and drinking ice water trying to stay cool. A vehicle sped by from the east with one of the passengers barking like a ferocious dog. Naturally Sam chased the intruder. We yelled at him to get back, and just like that another vehicle flew from the west and caught him unaware. Too late! What a horrible scene! Please believe me, I in no way compare Sam’s life to a human’s, but it was still awful. I cannot imagine how one feels to see a human being hit or hurt otherwise. I am so sorry, and I pray that if you have witnessed such an accident, the Lord will erase that picture from your mind.

  Even though Sam was just a dog, he was a part of our family and somehow snuck deep into our hearts. He survived the impact and seems to be improving. The children spend a lot of time with him as he’s recovering. He can easily communicate. We usually know what he wants. I know dogs are just dogs, but their loyalty to loved ones sometimes surpasses humans’. I remember my mom saying when her dad died, upon returning home from the hospital, my grandmother told the dog, who was lying by the sidewalk, that it was now all past, and the dog had tears rolling down his face.