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:





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





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.


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.