Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

Sometimes at the end of a day when I want to pen in the lines of my diary, I'm not sure what we did. My mental search for the high points among the daily routine chores performed by us two humans for our survival and the basics of care for the animals on our farm seems to fade into a fogginess without details. But that wasn't the case last week. Even though late hours forbade daily entries for five days, I had no problem remembering each day's unusual events.

When I finally found time to fill in empty pages, it was among flowers on my patio one calm evening without a sweater. My bare feet w...