Come with my husband and me on a walk in the country and see if you don't agree that "the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places" (Psalm 16:6).
First, we pass the secret garden maintained by a retired college professor of British history and his wife. He coaxes plants to grow from his rock wall. The wisteria over the front-door arbor is pruned at just the right time to produce lush hanging blossoms.
A few steps further, my husband and I squeeze hands as we pass the cutest teenage, Amish couple emerging from the covered bridge, he in his black pants, blue shirt, suspenders, and straw hat; she in her long back dress, white pinafore, and sheer white head-covering. Black tennis shoes in hand, their bare feet enjoy summer's first warmth. Because they are reserved about having their picture taken, I refrain.
Once across the bridge, we gaze through flung-open doors into a side garden.
Onward and upward we walk, to the top of a hill overlooking Amish farms.
Lancaster County is appropriately called "the garden spot" of the country, because the rich soil fills many closely-spaced silos.
After taking in the panorama, we return down the hill, past the veterinarian's farm.
Just before we get to the covered bridge, we hear, "Voom, voom, voom." A wee Amish boy, about two and a half years old, in his black pants, blue shirt, suspenders, and straw hat is holding onto the front of his father's push scooter urging him to go faster. Even if engines are outlawed by the bishop, you can't eradicate a boy's craving for speed!
Still smiling, my husband and I cross the bridge.
We take in the field of wild flowers in front of Bridge Acres.
Just inside the property, the rock garden beacons us to enjoy the last of the tulips... and the season's first rhododendron blossoms. Lush spring-green ferns are a feast for the eyes.
Near home, we take a shortcut through our neighbor's drive, enjoying her specimen trees as we pass.
From the front, I hear the clip-clop of hooves and race to capture the scene. The horse is coming at such a fast clip I don't have time to focus the camera, but it is a perfect ending to a delightful Sunday afternoon stroll.
weekend white classics
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