Amish County

I had every intention of showing the various Amish amenities that I experienced in PA. however, plans changed abruptly on Saturday and my photographing time was cut short. Even still, here are a couple of images I took as I wandered around:

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The view from a hill in Willow Street, PA. This hill was actually home for a Par 3, but no one was playing golf.

 

 

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This little plot of land was about a mile from the golf course, but on some Sundays, the yard would be full of horse-drawn buggies, the community coming to sit down for a large Sunday dinner.

 

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Custom designs for animal enclosures. 

The weather stopped cooperating on Sunday, and by Monday the winter storm Ezekiel was spreading snow flurries. But up to then, the weather was beautiful. I had seen some horses and carriages as I was driving around, but none while I was out walking. Possibly they were all working somewhere. So wasn’t able to photograph buggies…

I suppose another trip will be required sometime in the future.

Learning to play

My great-grandfather George Heron was a professional golfer. My grandmother was an avid golfer most of her life, and my grandfather was a golf course superintendent. My father as well played, though hasn’t for some time.

I shoot like I’m swinging a baseball bat. It’s rather jarring how bad I am at the sport. However, it wasn’t something I was raised in. I didn’t learn about George H. until I was a teenager, at least. By that point, not ever having held a club, it’s easy to ascertain why it would be so difficult for me now. I haven’t played in a year, and that was just once in 2017.

So, out I go again. What I last wrote about frequency applies to golf as well, and there may be times when I ask clients out for a morning on the links. Though it’s okay for them to beat me, I don’t need to spend my paychecks on replacing all the golf balls I lost.