Despite dealing with a disability, my son Brian is blessed with a quick wit, a memory of even the smallest details, a heart of gold and a smile as warm as sunshine. Brian lives with me. Since moving out to the country in 2010, we have made a habit out of driving along country roads peppered with Amish farms.
Over time, we’ve given some of those farms nicknames. Abe Lincoln’s. The Pig Farm. Brown Boy’s. The Birdhouse Man to name a few. When the Amish roadside stands are open, we often stop. We have our favorite stands. All sell delicious cookies, breads and pies along with fresh vegetables and offer a landscape deserving of a Norman Rockwell cover.
Besides the Amish getting our attention, so do old barns and abandoned farms and houses, snow in the fields and streams waking up in the spring and leaves turning and a particular horse with a particular goat most always off in a field together and so much more.
One day I began taking photos as we went along. As the number of photos increased, I realized they were so much more than just photos. They were little stories documenting little moments of Brian and I driving along country roads.