More Amland - Click to Enlarge

I love late afternoon sun, we drove many miles in the evening taking pictures for future reference. The colors are so warm, lighting and weather were perfect.
All the buggies were the end of school celebration that Naomi and Paul went to on Saturday.

Yes that's the Carlisle, (4th pic from the bottom, and one more way in the distance- School house picture)


The Amish guy on the bike was flying really fast, this was a very steep decline and he had to have been going well over 30 mph

Photos

Paul Weaver Woodcarvings

Monday was our last day and we decided to stop back at some favorite spots. One thing led to another with no real plan. After stopping by the Millers one last time and Willis mentioning Noah Shetler's name again I decided we should stop back at Homestead furniture one more time. We had stopped there the week before but Noah had been gone mushroom hunting. I didn't expect he would remember me, I was one of thousands of customers who had bought furniture he made.
Noah was there this time, the first Monday he had worked in six weeks. He remembered Joe Mentor, the Menominee Amish furniture store owner we had first gone to Amland with.
He asked what I did, I told him I was a woodcarver. He showed me some pictures of commissioned work they had hired for custom furniture pieces they have done. He then asked if I had pictures of my work and soon the entire sales staff was squandering away the afternoon. Noah said that before I left town I really needed to see Paul Weaver's woodcarvings.
It was late afternoon but I'm always looking for ways to avoid the long drive home. Noah drew a map and off we went to a ramshackle shop out in the sticks. The shop looks like something built by the David Koresh followers. It is a large three story building that was never really finished and not designed so much as built with whatever could be found at surplus building materials. One item that must not have come up for sale was a door. I walked around three sides of the building facing the gravel road and couldn't find a place to knock. After a bit of bewilderment I heard a window open on the top floor of the compound and someone call down hello. Paul Weaver is Amish, but he also has electricity which is a little odd for the area. I'm not holding that against him, so I asked if he was Paul Weaver, he replied in the affirmative and asked if I was a woodcarver. After coming down to show me the way in, I climbed the stairs to the top and walked into a lighted room lined with woodcarvings on the walls. I was taken back by the sheer volume of work on display. I told him I had to get my wife and will admit I was a little choked up, all I could do was motion for her to come. Paul labors in obscurity, never showing his work or entering carving shows. His work is not for sale and is only for his own pleasure. I couldn't help but feel I was lead to this very place to see this work. It was truly inspiring and I can't explain the feeling of knowing that I could identify with what he was doing.
The photos don't do justice to the depth that the carvings have. Paul carves 5 to 6 inches deep into glued up blocks of butternut. The elements are carved all the way around as if they are independent pieces and as you move around them they shift perspective as if you are wearing 3D glasses. It's as if the room is moving and the intensity of the lighting gives them extra punch. There is really no way to describe it, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves but they are limited because they are only in 2D.

Sunday -rest - of the day

We arrived back at the Carlisle, in the late afternoon and had a nice nap. By dinner time the fog had burned off and it became a beautiful time to go give the horses their carrot treats. Before heading over to the horse pasture I checked my messages and found Kathy Miller had called asking us to come for a visit after the cows were milked.
It took awhile to convince the horses that our carrots were better than their grazing spots, but once one started ambling up the hill the other started to jog to get to the fence. They let us feed and pet them for the next 1/2 hour. We planned a brisk walk down to the bridge and back. It's a good 3/4 mile walk and around 200 foot drop in elevation. Going down is the easy part coming back up with Josiah in tow would be a good workout. I figured we would have about forty minutes, so wherever we were in our walk we would start back in fifteen minutes so we would not be late to the Miller's.
A little over half way down was the beautiful home that overlooks the Meadows community. It is like a Kincaid painting. The house is perched on top of this very steep hill, it has a 60 foot drop in elevation to the pond below. I saw this older gentleman struggling to walk up that back slope to the house and I stopped to ask if it was his home (after all he could have been the caretaker).
He was not really interested in talking to a stranger, it was obvious he was heading to the house as quick as he could but the steep slope was not helping. It allowed me to get between him and his drawbridge. It didn't take long to win him over though, he knew from my questions that I didn't know who he was and I really was sincere in my compliments on his home and lawn and that beautiful development that his home overlooked. Soon we were talking about construction and housing developments. Once he felt safe talking to me he gave me a business card with his cell phone number and when I told him we were staying at the Carlisle he finally told me who he was. Levi Troyer! He built the Carlisle Inn and the Carlisle House and Der Dutchman. I asked him if I could shake his hand and raved that in my humble opinion he was a genius.
Needless to say I lost track of time and Bette had already headed back up the hill.
It was beyond amazing to think that he just got back from Florida, happened to walk outside while I am walking by and now we have exchanged business cards and we are best buds! I told him I had to go and he told me to come back next time I was in the area and he would give me a tour of the house.
When the Miller's found out I had met Levi Troyer they seemed incredulous. Apparently everyone knew who he was except me, no wonder he wanted to avoid conversation.
The next surreal scene is sitting in this Amish living room under gas lamp lights while watching little Tim fly his remote control helicopter around the living room with expert finesse. Deftly hovering near the lights, circling swooping, weaving gracefully around chairs and people then landing lightly on an over turned cardboard box in the middle of the room. I thought I was in some sort of a weird dreamland. The little poodle dog "Jackson" was a little freaked out but getting better. Tim had bought the helicopter only the day before at the huge Mount Hope auction and the dog had been chased around for a full day already. Tim is about ten and small for his age but he loves to sit and listen to the adults and occasionally interject his bits of wisdom. He also loves to collect knives and has a collection of about forty, I rummaged through the truck and found a couple to let him pick from. I would have given him both but don't want to spoil him. He is also quite the entrepreneur, charging his sisters rent for using some of his closet space. He buys goats and chickens on market speculation. The eggs he sells, and the goats if the price is right.

The last picture- Randy Gerber's bed and breakfast cabin
On a side note we found out that Randy Gerber, the former Inn keeper at the Carlisle we had come to know over the years was no longer with the company. He and his wife had divorced and he lost the home and the bed and breakfast cabin they ran on the side. He had left the area for several years but now was living near Charm and running a small engine repair business.

Sunday-The Road Less Traveled

It was drizzling Sunday morning, we slept till 8 o'clock, the breakfast area was packed. There were church retreat groups moving tables together for Sunday school class bible studies. We listened in on the group nearest us, they were from one of the nearby big cities, Columbus or Cincinnati. Most of the weekend groups are gone by late morning and Sunday nights are much quieter at the inn.
We ate lunch in Berlin at the East of Chicago Pizza. In addition to pizza they have toasted subs and chicken wings and salad bar.
We drove out to do some sight seeing as the rain had stopped by late morning. Taking the road less traveled is a favorite pastime of mine. This time it was a road heading south into southwest Holmes county between Berlin and Millersburg. The first chance we came to a gravel road I naturally took it, being it appeared to be the road less traveled.
Some of these roads were too narrow to meet a buggy on. There was no fear of meeting a car since none had ever passed this way. The only roads we didn't go down were ones that had signs warning single lane ahead, because I couldn't imagine them getting any narrower with this fat truck.
Though it was overcast, it was a great day meandering through the hills, never sure what was around the next bend, or over the next hill...Kind of like life.
It was as close to owning a time machine as you could come. Going places that perhaps no engine vehicle had driven in the last century. At least that was how it felt, and at one point coming upon a group of young Tom Sawyers, their mouths were gaping open in awe at the sight of a motorized horseless carriage. I'm sure they've trekked the many miles to town before and seen modern civilization. But town has probably never trekked out to them.
We were quite lost for a time, but that didn't matter, after all that was the point. Getting as far from the real world as we could go.
I usually check if there is a township number before turning down a road. The one time I forgot, we ended up on a very narrow trail that took us across a narrow wooden bridge up into the hills along a steep ridge. There was no place to turn around and the further it went the more I doubted ever checking for a township road number. At last we found a spot wide enough in the dead end barnyard. As I see-sawed the truck to get turned around between the house and the barn (they were closer together than I would have liked). I was relieved to think that most Amish are non-violent, I wouldn't want to get my tires shot out at this point in our excursion.
I had wanted to get some rural photos of landscapes for painting and I'd say I got my money's worth. Total miles for the week were over 500 miles on by the odometer (why do they call it that? Like it can detect smells) a good portion of those miles was on Sunday afternoon.
Josiah fell asleep as we meandered up and down steep hills, following lanes winding through sleepy hollows with Brown Swiss cows laying so close to the edges of the deep cuts that you could almost reach out and touch them. Most of the cows were laying down as it was Sunday.
Around 2 o'clock we began to see buggies steaming down these lanes, some coming our way others on side lanes on distant ridges.
I was watching my truck compass to try to find a road leading back to the north and east. Just as I would find one heading east it would wind around and we would be going south and then west again. These roads led every direction and seemingly at the same time.
After some time we came into a wide valley with flat tilled fields. One large white barn had 1819 painted up in the gable.
Many of these farms were here before the township roads. These days the roads go through the farms, winding around the barns and out buildings. Some of these farms have enough generations living in different homes on the farm they look like little villages. I haven't been to Europe but somehow feel as if we have had a glimpse this day.
I finally stop by a farm where a young man on a bike is waiting for his friend. I asked where the nearest town is and in the heavy dutch accent of the Schwartz's he tells me we are about 8 miles from Millersburg (maybe by way the crow flies) it was more like 18 miles by the odometer. He gave directions that I could almost understand (at least I got the "durnrount" part) on the way out, I began to wonder what you would do out here if you had a mechanical breakdown or were to run out of fuel.

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.	20

	10
	2

Saturday Evening

We went for a long walk this evening, taking the way Naomi Mast said she goes through the Meadows retirement community. It was a beautiful 60 degrees and calm with stars shining brightly. There was complete silence except for the occasional clip clop of horses and buggies as they sped by in the distance. We paused for a while at the bridge hoping to hear a buggy pass this way, Naomi said she loves to hear the deep echo of horse hoofs on the bridge deck. The night before buggies came this way down the hill every five minutes it seemed but not tonight. Tomorrow being Sunday most Amish must be going to bed early.
We had popcorn from the Carlisle on our walk also, we had the hills to ourselves, it was the perfect end to a perfect day.