Every 3-4 months or so, my husband plans a big grocery shopping trip to Shady Maple Farm Market in East Earl, PA. This is where we buy our meats and the produce there cannot be beat. Well, it can I’m sure, but their produce is excellent and they have everything.
Our journey takes just over an hour from our home and we travel through Amish country. We used to live up in Pennsylvania for years, in Chester County, and Shady Maple is where we regularly shopped. We’ve been going there for close to 30 years and have watched it grow from a regular-sized grocery store to something mammoth. It even has its own smorgasbord next door, where you can gorge yourself with Pennsylvania Dutch cookin’ and everything in- between. We stay away from the smorgasbord.
I took these shots on the journey home.
I would have liked to get out of the car but sometimes that’s just not possible.
We drove along familiar roads and passed places we used to live, the playground where I’d regularly take our boys to play when they were very young, and well-tended Amish farms.
My husband would slow down when he saw me pull the camera up.
It’s always soothing along these familiar roads of Pennsylvania.
I didn’t fare so well at Shady Maple, though. What is it with anesthesia? Or maybe it was all the drugs in the hospital last week, but when the car stopped, it felt like I was still moving. The store was blowing my mind with just how much of everything there was. Too many things. Too many decisions. Thank heavens it wasn’t packed yet, as we got there around 8:30, but I felt confused after we were done in the produce section and eventually went back to the car to sit down. I gotta get over this.
I took a small walk with camera in tow when we got home and suddenly it began to rain. I tried to walk as fast as I could up the hill back towards the house and saw my husband running down towards me. He brought me an umbrella, opened it up and handed it to me and then ran back up to the house. Wow!
Someday, I thought, I’m going to run like that.
I need a nap now. How are things in your neck of the woods?
Until later, my friends . . .