Time for another brief installment of Living With the Amish…
Is it windy or are you just happy to see me?
Like a pack of zebras, innumerable because of the confusing illusion of their stripes.
So too is a pack of Amish – a slow-moving mass of black garments.
On clear mornings, passing an Amish buggy is done with caution.
On foggy mornings, you sit behind the buggy for a long time, muttering mean things about them and their disdain of modern transportation under your breath.
This has been another brief installment of Living With the Amish…