My Wednesday ritual; a trip to the Amish farmland. I'm taking a course at Kutztown University, which is minutes away from my mother's apartment. The few miles between Kutztown and Fleetwood offer me a much needed respite from my harried life.
On a cool, sunny pre-autumn afternoon, I went in search of a corn field for a photograph of the corn stalks. I found so much more. The air was brisk and clear, with a slight breeze and welcome warm sun. I pulled over near these Jersey girls.
Quietly munching in the early evening air, they paused to watch me, watching them.
Curious and calm, they cautiously approached; the breeze blew, and the outside world was silent save for the tearing of grass and the chewing of cud. Liquid black eyes blinked slowly, then looked back to the grass. Comfortable. Doing what cows do.
A few feet away, the corn stalks rattled in the breeze like rain. I wanted to lie among them. I wanted to sleep with my head at their feet. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and just listened, and time stood still.
I suspect it does that often here, on the Amish farmlands; it's a peaceful vortex, a welcome anomaly. Filled by the richness of tradition and the rhythms of the seasons. It's a place where I can catch my breath; and I did.