My parents loved any opportunity to flee their hometown and head for the rolling hills in Ohio. Beyond the beautiful landscape, I suspected my father enjoyed seeing horse-drawn buggies, and he certainly had a weakness for Amish baked pies. I find that I am most definitely his daughter! Decades later, the urge to escape into the countryside is hardwired into my heart.
Last week I accepted a most timely invitation to visit friends who own a farm a few hours drive south of me. (Which is why, if you noticed, I did not publish a blog entry on Friday, October 23rd.) Rather than jumping on the highway, I took backroads through small towns. It was wonderful. But their welcome was even better. I remembered a couple of things about their home, which I was last in probably twenty years ago.
I toured their beautiful home, watched as the combine harvested their corn, and took a little drive to see more of their farm and some of their cattle. After the fact, Jan told me I should have taken a ride on that combine. Nah, I don’t think so. But she did answer my question and reported that they have 29 cows, three heifers, and one Bull. I also learned a few things about meat!
We had a great visit, which included a few intriguing antique shops, a delicious lunch out, a working mill, a covered bridge, and the best tasting pie I’ve had in quite some time. This pie was homemade by my incredibly talented friend.
Grief is a hard taskmaster, but friendship and visits are blessed respites. I cannot sufficiently thank my friends for the relaxing, fun, adventure-filled weekend they gave me.
(Raspberry Buttermilk Crumb Pie)
I have given them fair warning that I have no intention of waiting another two decades before escaping to their blessed haven of a home again!