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.