Day 37
October 14, 2010
Shopping in Amish Country
We slowed down more than once for an Amish carriage last night as we were driving through southwestern
New York.
The back of the carriages gives caution to approaching vehicles with reflective tape and warning triangles.
But, in the dusk, they are less obvious to an oncoming vehicle.
As sunset moved to twilight, twilight to dusk, the landscape was enveloped in the darkness.
An occasional house was brightly lit with Halloween decorations welcoming the season, but the majority of the houses sat still in the darkness.
A few glowed with dim light, maybe a candle or a hurricane lamp.
The majority of homes seemed to be living a lifestyle of work tied to the hours of sunlight.
“Early to bed, early to rise.”
We were not among those to rise early today, but when we cleaned out the car and got our stuff stuffed in again, we headed to the area knows as The Amish Trail of New York. The Amish of this area are Old Order Amish. They are conservative and traditional. They make their living using old fashioned farming practices raising cattle, feed crops, and family gardens. They make and sell baked good, canned goods, furniture, iron work, quilting, crafts and more. Houses will have multiple fire chimneys as these Amish live without electricity, phones, cars and other conveniences we take for granted in our high tech lives.
It’s hard to reconcile this quiet landscape and simple lifestyle with the bright lights and crowded bustle of
Manhattan on the eastern side of the state.
We move slower along these roads.
Men and women with children tucked in their buggies nod, smile and wave as we pass along the tree lined roads.
Small hand painted signs let the tourist know what goods are for sale from their homes.
We make two stops.
At the first home we pull in side by side with a young woman and toddler in their buggy.
As we park, she tethers her horse to a hitching post and goes into the house.
The sign says “OPEN”, but the lights are out – obviously because there’s no electricity.
But, the sign also asks the tourist to honk their horn to announce their arrival.
I take a few steps towards the shop, then a few steps towards the car.
To honk or not to honk, that is the question.
I don’t want to startle or spook the horse, but I want to see what they have to offer.
This is personal shopping.
A woman sees me edging towards the door, edging towards the car and calls from the house that her daughter is coming.
She’s beautiful in her grey dress, white apron and navy blue cap.
She comes in and sits quietly at a small table.
There is no light, but we can see canned pickles, beets, and jams on wooden plank shelves and hanging from a rod are quilts and pillows.
Cookbooks, home remedy books, coloring books are for sale.
We find two items.
All transactions are cash only.
We knew this and have cash.
I’m on a small mission to find two specific roads and along the way we see another hand painted sign and stop.
Across the street an older man and little boy, dressed identically in black jacket and pants with straw hats, pull into a huge red barn.
Not so shy this time I walk up the steps, open the gate and a woman welcomes me.
She’s a bit older than me and we strike up a conversation.
She tells me that the materials are all made by people of ‘their community’ which spreads throughout this area.
In this community there are 12 churches, but usually only six open every other Sunday and they attend one of the open churches.
While we visit I hear someone opening the door from the house to the shop.
A little girl, three years old, slips in and cuddles her grandmother.
We exchange grandchildren stories.
She has six children and 21 grandchildren.
I tell her I have two children and 2 grandkids.
She chuckles a bit and says if I wanted more grandchildren, I needed to have more children.
We both laugh.
Wanting to fit in a bit more I tell her that my sister Teresa has six children and at least twelve grandchildren.
“Ah, maybe she will have twenty-one like
me.”, she says.
I smile and say. ”Perhaps.”
We talk about the difference between her valley and
New York city.
She’s heard of the bright lights and busy streets, but can’t imagine.
Many tourists come to their valley, mainly people like us who come from out of state and seek simple shops.
“No big buses stop here.”, she says and we agree that is probably a good thing.
Most of her quilts are bought by single shoppers and they do get a fabulous bargain.
She has numerous bed sized quilts, as did the other store.
They all sell for easily under $500.00 and some for a few hundred dollars less.
The piecing is impeccable.
Star points match every time.
The quilting is hand done and varies from neat, fine stitches to the uneven stitches of a beginner or older quilter.
Regardless of the stitches the quilts are all beautiful.
Though their lifestyle is far from modern, they are not immune to some of the pitfalls of modern life.
They were recently robbed.
Her daughter was across the road washing the buggy.
She saw a man in a pickup truck park and enter the shop.
Instinctively she checked the license plate.
He told her he was looking for a quilt for his grandmother and hurried off.
She called the sheriff when she found the cash box had been emptied.
Fortunately he was caught, but it upset their sense of security.
We talk a bit more about family and kids.
We make a few purchases and head west again.
A few hours later We breeze through a toll road in Ohio on our E-Z PASS that we bought in New York, activated on our cell phone and paid for with our AMEX card while is ‘on file’ and will automatically add credit when the card gets under $10.00. It’s clear we are out of Amish Country!
