MY TWO unofficial breakfast jobs at Abe and Sarah’s farmhouse are: 1) hand-grinding the coffee–Abe is a big drinker of the stuff, as am I, and 2) sneaking in to Abe’s dad’s milkhouse to scoop up a pitcherful of ice-cold organic raw milk. Okay, maybe not sneaking in, as Abe’s pop fully condones the practice. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it. This morning I joked that I got the milk and got away without being fired upon.
Raw milk is thick, creamy and delicious. The Amish swear that it is more healthy as well. But is it safe? I have been drinking it every morning for about a week now, and I am still bumping along. Yet there has been some controversy related to its sale, which at least in these parts, requires a permit.
I stopped by another Amish farm this morning which happens to sell raw Jersey and Holstein milk. They are licensed and make the fact known with a sign outside and with the framed license on full display inside their small store. Not all Amish have gone to the trouble, and have thereby gotten themselves into trouble.
ONE THING we do each morning, usually after finishing the meal and prayers, is to read a chapter from the Bible. Lately we’ve been on Proverbs.
This morning Abe paused, as he does occasionally while reading, to comment on a verse.
‘Drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags’, Abe read. ‘I should think about that when I got the glue’, he remarked.
‘The glue’ is our new terminology for not being able to get out of bed in the morning, as in ‘I think someone poured glue in my bed last night’. We have had some late bed times lately and have ‘gotten the glue’ more often than I think is the norm around here.
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