Our Visit to Amish Country by J.Q. Rose #travel #Amishcountry

 

Terror on Sunshine Boulevard by J.Q. Rose
a perfect read for the scary month of October
Click here to download this paranormal mystery
and more mysteries by J.Q. from BWL Publishing

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Our Visit to Amish Country  by J.Q. Rose

Ohio towns we visited plus Berlin, Ohio engraved in this brick wall.

Hello and welcome! My husband and I took a break in September to visit friends in Ohio and tour Amish Country, Holmes County, to be exact.  I never realized Ohio was so hilly. The hills and valleys add adventure and eyepopping beauty. With the mild fall weather, the landscape was green and gorgeous. When traveling the country roads, we appreciated the fields of crops raised on pristine Amish farms and watching the farmers work their fields with the powerful draft horses pulling their vintage equipment. The homes featured colorful flowers planted in yards and large vegetable gardens harvested by the children and moms wearing their bonnets, aprons and long dresses.  *An Amish broom maker. He showed us how he puts the broom together. The sweeper is so thick with broom corn, the craftsman could stand the broom straight up on the floor and it never fell down! Yes, we bought one. It sits next to my iRobot vacuum. Talk about a contrast in ways to clean floors! *I wish you could see how huge this pumpkin at Hershberger's Farm really is. The area is populated with Amish grocery stores, produce markets, bakeries, cheese factories, restaurants specializing in fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and noodles.  You can stuff yourself so easily. But so tasty! *I fell in love with these pups riding in the cage attached to the back of the buggy. Adorable. No, we did not bring one home with us, but oh so tempting. *This life-like art installation of the old women visiting on the bench was in front of the courthouse in Newark, OH. I just had to join them. Of course, I suggested they begin telling their life stories!! *Horse and buggies carrying families are on the roads along with 21st-century vehicles. In the last 2 years, some groups allow traveling on electric bicycles with pedal assist. I think the bikes outnumber the buggies.  *We witnessed the hard-working Amish farmer cutting hay on a warm sunny day. Hardy mums at Harshberger Farms. Thanks for touring Amish country with me. I hope you have the opportunity to visit Ohio and enjoy even more of the lifestyle of these industrious people of faith. Connect online with JQ Rose: Author J.Q. Rose J.Q. Rose blog  Facebook

Travel Ban

Find me and my novels here...

 Life in the time of pandemic has changed.  With children and grandchild living on another coast, my biggest challenge has been not being able to travel to see them.  

                                missing this little California fellow!

My husband and I share a love of travel, of seeing the world from a new perspective, learning about  new cultures, people, history. Here in Vermont we share a border with Canada and have beloved cousins there. No go, though only a few hours from the border! Our European dreams have been feasting on Rick Steves’ travelogues through beautiful counties on the Mediterranean, Adriatic, and along the Arno, Rhine, Danube. We now count on documentaries with drone flights across jungle claimed lost cities and imaginatively drained oceans in search of ancient cultures and shipwrecks.

                         guiding art lovers along trails that painter Thomas Cole hiked

Once upon a time, we conducted art tours through the mountains loved by the Hudson River School artists. Now we head to remote state parks and find beaches too crowded for us to get out of the car.

                                           The Piddocks have a lovely spot

Lately we’ve found a cure for our wanderlust...we've been taking walks through local graveyards and cemeteries, in search of lives that genealogists are trying to track down. You can find lists of such requests on FindaGrave.com.  Claim them to start your search. The oldest gravestones in our area are in church yards. We have seen some beautiful stone carvings from early America and our Federal period.  And the names! Sometimes the stones even the stories of lives well-lived or cut short by childbirth, disease, sudden violence. 

                                         The Ellis grave includes their wedding date...

Later in the the 19th century cemeteries were established in garden-like settings, for picnic visits with deceased loved ones. We found ourselves talking to the people on our lists, scraping away lichen from their stones to make out their dates. We were rarely in the company of the living except for an occasional groundskeeper or romping dog.  Ah, socially distanced mask freedom!

                                           keeping watch over fallen comrades

When we return home, I go on FindaGrave.com and log in our images of discoveries. 

A pleasant surprise? Within hours, my email inbox is usually full of messages from far-flung relatives with profound thanks.  

We recommend grave hunting to everyone.

Road Tripping USA Part Five by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

                                                                        /B013L83PR2


My website: www.joandonaldsonyarmey.com

Author’s Note

I belong to Angels Abreast, a breast cancer survivor dragon boat race team in Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada. Every four years the International Breast Cancer Paddlers Commission IBCPC) holds an international festival somewhere in the world. In the spring of 2013, my team received a notice that the IBCPC had chosen Sarasota, Florida, USA, to hold the next festival in October 2014.

     We decided to attend and while the other members were going to fly down, tour around some of the sites and head home I wanted to see more of the country and meet some of the people. My husband, Mike, and I drove from our small acreage at Port Alberni, British Columbia, on the Pacific Ocean, to Sarasota, Florida on the Atlantic Ocean.
     Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the people I would meet nor the beautiful places I would see nor the adventures I would have on our ten week, 18,758km (11656 mile) journey. On the thirteenth day of every month in 2016 I will post a part of my trip that describes some of the excellent scenery, shows the generosity and friendliness of the people, and explains some of the history of the country. The people of the USA have much to be proud of.

 Road Tripping USA Part Five

We entered Florida, the Sunshine State and passed a number of roadside shops offering pecans, jams, and boiled peanuts. We stopped at one and bought a bag each of pecans, chocolate coated pecans, and white chocolate coated pecans. We also purchased a bag of chocolate covered cherries, a container of pecan brittle, and a jar of mayhaw jelly. Mayhaw is a wild berry that grows along the rivers in the area. We sampled the boiled peanuts. You can eat them with the shell or you can remove the shell and eat the nut.

     We crossed the Historic Suwannee River made famous by Stephen Foster’s song Old Folks at Home written in 1851. It became Florida’s state song in 1935.
     At 4:00pm the temperature was 83F (28C).
     I was to meet my dragon boat team at the Hampton Inn Sarasota Bee Ridge on Wednesday, October 22. On October 21 Mike and I went to Myakka State Park and booked a site for him for five nights. In the morning we decided to do the Canopy Walk before I went to the hotel. It was humid and hot even at 8:00am.
     We walked down the road to a bridge over the river and took pictures of a small alligator swimming in the water. We continued to where the Canopy Walk trail headed into the bush. It was only slightly cooler in the trees. After a short distance we got to the first of two towers. There was a sign there warning us that the suspended walkway would sway when we crossed it and the taller tower would shake if someone was climbing below. Also, the tall tower would rattle if it was windy. But we were assured it was all natural and safe.
     We climbed the tower to the walkway which is suspended 25ft (7.6m) above the ground. We walked along its narrow 85ft (30m) length through the tall trees. At one point we had to duck to miss a huge branch growing over the walkway. At the end we climbed the taller tower until we were 76.1ft (23m) in the air. What an excellent view we had of the oak and palm tree tops and the wetlands. This is one of just a few canopy walks in the world.
     In the afternoon, Mike drove me to the Hampton Inn. The rest of the team wouldn’t be showing up until evening. I unpacked and watched television, something I hadn’t done since leaving home. I hadn’t missed much. The two ladies I was sharing the room with arrived and after hugs and greetings they unpacked. We headed down to the lobby to meet with other team members and we went for supper.
     Thursday was a free day so we split into groups, some wanted to go shopping, some wanted to relax because of the time change, and some wanted to sightsee. I was part of the shopping group. One woman had gotten directions to a shopping center and we boarded a bus. It was a long trip and we had to transfer once. At one point we were the only people on the bus other than the driver. A young man got on and stopped when he saw all us women. We told him it was safe and we had quite a conversation with him, telling him who we were and why we were in town. He took a picture of us when he got off the bus.
     We visited the mall and returned in time to attend the welcoming party that the hotel staff put on for us and the three other teams who were staying at the hotel. We had a fun time meeting the other women and sampling food and beer from local businesses. We’d made reservations at a nearby restaurant for a team supper so we headed there afterwards. Once we’d eaten, most of the team came back to our room for shooters and a party.
     Friday morning we were bussed to Nathan Benderson Park for our first look at the venue where the festival would take place and for our forty-five minute practice on the lake. The opening ceremonies were held that evening and thousands of chairs had been set up on a grassy area facing a stage. The youngest member of all the teams from each country carried that country’s flag across the stage and set it in a holder. No name or age was given for these women but some of them seemed to be in their twenties or early thirties. Speeches were given and then there was a wine and cheese reception for the teams.
     School buses had been rented to provide transportation for the teams to the site on Saturday and Sunday. Our pick up time was at 6:30am. The hotel management usually supplied breakfast for its guests starting at 6:00am but they changed the time to 5:00am to accommodate our early schedule. And a good selection it was: bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, hash browns, hot and cold cereal, muffins, fruit, juice, tea, and coffee.
     We were in Florida but at 6:30 in the morning it was dark and the temperature was cool. At the site we carried our team banner and decorations to our tent and set them up, then watched the sun rise.
     Nathan Benderson Park was large. It had to be to accommodate the one hundred teams with up to twenty-six members plus supporters. This totaled about three thousand women and men in pink. There were two long rows of huge tents on the grass and the teams shared the space. Each team was given a table and enough chairs for the members. We put our table at one end of the tent and set the chairs in two rows with a narrow walkway between. From the other end of our space we had a view of the lake and the races. Between us and the water was a paved walkway and a beach.
     The races began at 8:30am and ran every ten minutes. There were eight teams per race. Our first race was at 8:50. We found a place on the grass to do our warm up then headed to the first Staging Area to line up with the other seven teams of our race. There were twenty-four dragon boats on the water. Eight were racing, eight were being loaded and heading to the race start, and eight were waiting to unload from the previous race. As each set of boats was loaded the teams for the next race moved from the first Staging Area to the second Staging Area and those from the Second Staging area went down to the water to await their boats. It ran like clockwork.
     When our race was finished we were free to explore the site until an hour before assembling for our next one. I went and checked out the many tents that offered clothes, paddling equipment, food, and souvenirs for sale. One place sold t-shirts that listed the one hundred teams and all their members. I found my name on it and bought it.
     It was exciting to wander the crowd of women, meeting friends from other festivals and making new ones at this festival. Mike and I planned on travelling across Canada so I stopped in at the tables of teams from each province to get a contact number. I wanted to try and make a practice with at least one team in each province as we drove through it.
     We women at the race are a very small representation of the millions of women around the world who have had, are dealing with, or who have died from breast cancer. We are called survivors, but really that is a description that changes minute by minute. I have paddled with many women who had their cancer return, sometimes in the breast, sometimes it has metastasized to their brain, their lungs, or another part of their body. One woman I knew had breast cancer cells wrapped around the bones of her lower jaw.
     In one area there was a pink fire truck and a pink police car. The retired firefighters from various towns and cities drive their truck to festivals across the country to raise awareness of breast cancer. Their motto is Pink Heals and the truck was covered in names of people who had signed it. I added my name to it.
     Some of the teams have come up with some very inventive names: Chemo Savvy from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada; Chestmates from Kingston, Ontario, Canada; Missabittatitti from Brisbane, Queensland, Australia; Hope Chest, Buffalo, New York, USA; and Rowbust from London Ontario, Canada.
     After our last race of the day we headed to the drop off and pick up area to catch a bus back to the hotel. The owner of the school buses was directing them and we visited with him while we waited our turn.
     “Did you know that there are alligators in the lake?” he asked.
     “No,” we said, as we looked at each other in shock.
     “There are and if you fall in you will be eaten,” he said. “Alligators only eat every four months and we hold a festival on the lake about every four months. That way we don’t have to feed them.”
     Back at the hotel, we got ready for the Parade of Nations and a street party. Every team was supposed wear theme costume. Ours was Super Survivor. We wore pink capes, white t-shirts with a super hero on it, pink decorated masks, and black pants. We each carried a small Canadian flag. We were bussed to the Lakewood Ranch Main Street. There were speeches and then the one hundred teams paraded through the streets. Afterwards, a band played while we shopped in the stores and ate in the restaurants or from the street vendors. I gave my flag to a young boy of about eight, my cape to a young girl of about eleven and my mask to a child of about five.
     On Sunday afternoon, the Flower Ceremony was held after the last race. The sixteen boats from the previous two races remained on the water and were joined by the eight boats from the last one. They formed a floating flotilla of twenty-four boats and stayed in formation by the ladies holding the side of the boat beside them. Each of the women in the boats, as well as all the survivors on shore, had been given a pink carnation. Spectators could purchase the carnations and the money was donated to Breast Cancer research.
     Speeches were made then while the song, The River, was played we all waved our flowers. At the end of the song we threw them into the water. These flowers represented the women who have died from the disease or who are fighting it.
     The Flower Ceremony, also called the Carnation Ceremony, is held at every festival where there are breast cancer teams. It always is a very moving sight.
     At the closing ceremonies the oldest member of all the teams from each country retrieved that country’s flag from the holder and carried it back across the stage. Bette, an 85-year-old member from our team, represented Canada.
     Each day there were three drones hovering over the venue recording the sights. In the evening we could bring up the website on the Internet and see all that had taken place during the day.

Road Tripping USA Part Four by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

                                                           
                                                           http://amzn.com/B00KF07FQM


My website: www.joandonaldsonyarmey.com

 

Author’s Note

I belong to Angels Abreast, a breast cancer survivor dragon boat race team in Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada. Every four years the International Breast Cancer Paddlers Commission IBCPC) holds an international festival somewhere in the world. In the spring of 2013, my team received a notice that the IBCPC had chosen Sarasota, Florida, USA, to hold the next festival in October 2014.

     We decided to attend and while the other members were going to fly down, tour around some of the sites and head home I wanted to see more of the country and meet some of the people. My husband, Mike, and I drove from our small acreage at Port Alberni, British Columbia, on the Pacific Ocean, to Sarasota, Florida on the Atlantic Ocean.
     Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the people I would meet nor the beautiful places I would see nor the adventures I would have on our ten week, 18,758km (11656 mile) journey. On the thirteenth day of every month in 2016 I will post a part of my trip that describes some of the excellent scenery, shows the generosity and friendliness of the people, and explains some of the history of the country. The people of the USA have much to be proud of.

Road Tripping USA Part Four

We crossed a long cable suspension bridge over the very wide Mississippi River and were in Mississippi, Birthplace of America’s Music. We passed through Greenville and reached Leland which was established in 1886. It is the heart of Blues Country and has the US 61 Blues Museum. Jim Henson, who created Kermit the Frog, was born in Greenville but raised in Leland.

     We drove past fields of cotton and huge cotton bales and reached Greenwood, which bills itself as the cotton capital of the world.
     We needed some money so we stopped at a bank in Louisville. I walked in and was told the ATM was a drive through on the outside. I went out and around to the side. I decided to ask for more than I normally took out. As usual, I followed all the instructions and when I was asked if I wanted a receipt and I pressed yes. The next question was if I wanted to pay the extra charge for getting the money. Again I pressed yes. The words, ‘Thank you, your transaction is compete’ showed up on the screen. I waited but no money came out. I pushed buttons, nothing. I checked the flap for the money, none. I looked for the receipt. There wasn’t one.
     I went back into the bank and told a woman in an office what had happened.
     “That’s weird,” she said. “There must be something wrong. Maybe you should call your bank and find out if the transaction went through.”
     I grimaced. “I’m from Canada and I didn’t bring my cell phone.”
     She pushed the phone on her desk towards me. I dialed the number on the back of my bank card and was immediately put through to a person. I explained everything. He checked my account and said that the transaction hadn't gone through.
     “The cash you wanted plus the exchange rate put the amount you asked for over the withdrawal limit you had set,” he added.
     Problem solved.
     When I was leaving I thanked the woman for her help and gave her a hug. She told me to wait a minute and left. She came back holding two mugs with the name of the bank on them. A souvenir of our meeting. I went to the ATM and this time got our money.
     We passed many fields of cotton and entered Alabama, which got its name from an Indian tribe that once lived in the area. We were enjoying our drive down the back highways through the smaller towns and the tall trees. We saw some big old houses and entered historic Eutaw which was established in the 1830s. There are over 25 antebellum (before war) structures in town that are listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
    We saw a sign for Kirkwood Manor. The hours were 9am-4pm. We parked but when I knocked on the door no one answered and the door was locked. We tried to look in the windows but curtains blocked the view. We took pictures of the house and yard and went to the tourist information center which was in the old law courts.
     I walked inside and was in a large room with tall shelves holding rows of dusty old law books. I walked over to them and looked at the dates: 1883 and 1884.
     A woman entered the room. “May I help you?”
     “Yes. I wanted to tour the Kirkland Manor but no one was there.”
     “The person who looks after the manor is at a fair and will be there all day.”
     “Are there any other mansions that are open to visitors?” I asked.
     “I’ll see if I have a booklet on them.”
     She left the room and I went over to the books again. At one time I had thought I would like to be a lawyer and I was itching to look through these old books. I was just reaching for one when the woman returned.
     “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t find any booklets on the historic houses in town.”
     “That’s okay,” I said. I pointed to the book shelf. “Those books are sure dusty.”
     “That’s because no one is allowed to touch them.”
     Oops.
     The woman gave me directions to some of the old mansions and we drove around the town just to see the outside of some of them. When we left town we were on the Martin Luther King Memorial Highway.
     At 10:00am it was already 87F (30.5C) and humid. Just as we arrived in Greensboro we saw a sign for the Magnolia Grove. I like magnolia trees and we have one in our front yard. I wanted to see the grove. We found a place to park and I walked through the huge magnolia trees to the mansion.
     “This house was built around 1840 as a town house,” the guide told me. “The original owner wasn't a fancy type of guy so this wasn’t a very fancy home compared to others. He had a bigger house on his 4000 acre plantation twelve miles outside of town.”
     The town home had antique furniture such as a red velvet couch, a piano, and a commode in one of the bedrooms. The front verandah had six columns holding the roof.
     I asked her about the magnolia trees.
     “The southern magnolias is a large evergreen tree that keeps its leaves all year round,” she said. “Their blooms are all white and fragrant.”
     “I have a magnolia tree at home and it loses its leaves every fall. Its blossoms are a pinkish/white.”
     “The tree you have is a Japanese magnolia. It is the offspring of two Chinese parents and one of the most widely planted magnolias because of its hardiness.”
     As I was leaving she said we were lucky to be passing through the area today because the weather had just changed. It was a lot cooler than it had been.
     We had been looking for a place to sample a restaurant meal and in Eufaula we saw a sign for Cajun food. We pulled onto a side street and parked in a lot. As we walk along the sidewalk we saw the sign for Barb's Country Kitchen. We decided we should wait for Cajun food until we reached Louisiana so we entered the restaurant.
     It was a long, narrow room with a counter, kitchen, and buffet to the left and tables on the right. We figured it was a popular place because most of the tables were full. We paid for our meal and found a place to sit. I took my plate and went up to the first section of food. There weren't any signs to tell me what each dish was, so I asked the cook who was replenishing one of the pans. He pointed and said. “Catfish, jambalaya, three different types of chicken, baked beans, meatloaf, and corn bread.”
     I tried a little of each and went back to the table. The cat fish and chicken were delicious. I can’t eat spicy food because it burns my mouth and I’d heard that jambalaya was spicy. I took a small forkful. It was spicy but I found out if I didn't eat the sausage pieces I could handle it.
     When I’d finished my plate, I went to the next section that looked like it was mainly vegetables. This time I took some of each then went to the counter and ask the woman behind it what each dish was. Collard greens, lima beans with ham, corn, and rutabaga.
     When I sat down the waitress came over.
     “Where are you from?” she asked me
     “Canada,” I answered.
     She turned to the people behind the counter and announced in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “They’re from Canada.”
     I recognized peach cobbler as the dessert and didn’t have to ask.
     As we drove through the town we saw large pink ribbons, the sign for breast cancer, stuck in the grass of the medians and beside the sidewalks. I wasn't able to find out why the ribbons were on the lawns. I did learn, however, that a Eufaula high school student restored an antique tractor for her American Degree. In order to make it stand out she painted it pink. Along the way she learned how much breast cancer impacted families around the country. She now hopes her pink tractor's new life will inspire those battling the disease to look forward to their renewed life post cancer.
     We stopped at the Shorter Mansion Museum, a huge two-storey masonry home built in 1884. The mansion was passed down in the Shorter Family until 1965, when it was bought by the newly founded Eufaula Heritage Association. Inside, we followed a winding staircase that led to the centre of the upstairs. Around the staircase were the bedrooms. Each room had a door leading to the next one. There was period clothing and furniture to give the visitor an idea of how the people lived back in the era.
     Compared to the Magnolia Grove town home’s front verandah with its six columns, the Shorter mansion has a wrap-around verandah with 18 columns holding up its roof.
     I talked with a man at the mansion and asked him how to pronounce the name of the town. He told me that at one time the town had a large mattress factory and he gave me this saying: You falla sleep on our mattresses. Eu-faul-a.
     We crossed the Chattahoochee River into Georgia and at the town of Cuthbert we drove around a large traffic circle. There was a fall fair going on in the center. We parked and walked by an antique car display on our way to the fair. There were tables of jewellery, hats, knives, clothing, and food. I ordered a chocolate sundae while Mike had a root beer float. We came to one table where a 17–year-old young man and his mother were selling hand crafted knives. He explained that when he was fourteen he began working for a farrier looking after horses. A couple of years later the farrier gave the young man his old propane operated forge.
     He started fashioning railroad spikes into knives. On his table there was a tomahawk head that he had forged from a piece of one inch axle. We wanted to buy our neighbours something as a thank you for looking after our place. They belong to a Black Powder club and everything they wear or use has to be handmade. We thought the tomahawk head might be appropriate. The price was $60.00.
     “I don’t know why he puts a price on anything,” his mother said. “He’s willing to barter.”
     “What’s your lowest price?” Mike asked, as he looked at the piece.
     The young man thought it over. “I guess I could go down to $40.00.”
     “How long did it take you to make it? I asked.
     “It took me a day to forge it and then a week to polish it.”
     “I’m an artist,” I said. “And I know that we never get back the price of our time on anything we make for sale. It’s worth more than $40.00. We’ll give you $50.00.”
     The mother, the young man, and Mike all stared at me in surprise.
     “You don’t understand bartering, do you?” Mike said to me.
     We bought the tomahawk head for fifty dollars.
     Ever since we started this trip everyone we met was very friendly and helpful. They answered all our questions, however stupid they may be. A lot of them hadn't heard about dragon boating or its relationship to breast cancer. But it didn't matter who we talked to there was someone they knew, whether a family member or a friend, who had had some form of cancer. The grandmother of the young man had lymphoma. The doctors had managed it for a long time with medication then suddenly it doubled in size and she was on massive therapy.
     At another booth, the mother of the young woman there was an eleven year breast cancer survivor. When the people we talked with found out that we are going to Florida for an international breast cancer survivor dragon boat festival they always told us to have a safe trip.