there was hay and horses.
there was blue and white laundry
strung across porches and lawns.
there were jars of jam
and wooden toys
and hand sewn quilts.
there was me with my camera
and the irrepressible urge to take photos.
but the amish don't like themselves to be photographed.
i didn't want to be invasive or disrespectful.
i failed on a few accounts.
because when, when do you see
hay being harvested by hand and horse?
but the discreet and distant photos
are nothing, nothing compared to the
shots i didn't take~
the ones of the barefoot toddlers in bonnets
and short brown dresses
that waved from their gardens.
the matching boys in blue shirts and hats
walking together along the dirt road.
the 2 women in blue skirts and bonnets with the toddler~
a miniature version of themselves~
in a perfect triangle on their open buggy
in front of the perfectly weathered barn
where blue laundry soared above their heads,
strung from the house to the top of the silo.
it was an impromptu masterpiece
of texture and placement for the taking.
and i left it.
i left it.
with admitted artist's regret mixed in the respect.