Foundational Fridays -- Bucolic Breath

This morning, I awoke in Pennsylvania farm country. Specifically, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. My wife and I are here visiting with dear friends for a couple of days.

For those who know this is the heart of Amish Country, may well be thinking about the crafts and handmade furniture we will see, the great food we will eat (although I'm not much of a Shoofly Pie fan), the black horse drawn buggies going all over the place, kind people everywhere, and yes, some pure "touristy" places.

Being here, I'm more reminded about how beautiful this area is rather than the visitor viewpoints. More broadly, I am reminded about what I call the bucolic breath of farming communities. We also enjoy the ocean, mountains, and other similarly breathtaking vistas and visions.

Here, I think about that breath as simplifying and streamlining out distractions. Not suggesting I'm an expert on the Amish, rather, thinking about the strength and splendor of farming. This work, of course, is as old as humankind and essential to our lives.

Those who breathe the air around areas like this are among the most important anywhere. Why? Well, master of the obvious, in the absence of farms growing our food, we'd all be foraging for that food.

Farming isn't easy. It is hard, patient, and purposeful work. I know people who grew up on farms, and some who continue working their family farms. They imagery of dusk to dawn work is true. Sure, some days are longer than others, but in short, the work never stops.

You start preparing the equipment and the soil ahead of the actual planting days. You tend to what's been planted, any animals you are raising, every day. You pray for good conditions. Enough rain to feed the crops, but not too much so that they aren't flooded and set to rot.

If things go well enough, there is a harvest that you similarly pray yields enough to turn a profit for this season and begin preparing to execute the cycle all over again.

It is not my intention to paint too pastoral a picture here. There is something special about all this green growth around us and the deliberate dignity of people who work this land. Farmers, at least those that I know, are a people filled with a love of faith, family, and friends.

They believe in the beauty of the bounty they till and toil to produce, later present to markets. On smaller farms, the goal may well be producing enough to feed one's family and some in the local community.

Amish farms, of course, are not "factory farms" and they aren't yielding in a way where what they harvest moves to stores all across the country in great volumes.

Simply sharing that there is something special in the air here. Could be in part just how much cleaner, clearer, and crisper it is compared to living in much more populated areas.

I think what is most special is how the way of life here reminds me of simpler times (not necessarily easier). Time where and when people really appreciated one another, they respected the land, and they lived a life that seemed satisfying.

We're taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and yes, sumptuous suppers. Our pace over the next couple days will be deliberately slowed, allowing time to really take in that bucolic breath.