All around her, snow was continuing to melt—on the cobblestoned street that was Lighted Way, on the gravel road that linked the popular thoroughfare with the Amish side of town, and on the two-inch-high stalks that marched like soldiers across the fields to her left and to her right.She knew, from her first spring in Heavenly, that the yellowish-brownish stalks would soon turn a vibrant green as the wheat, rye, and barley crops began to really grow. Come June, soybeans, oats, and tobacco would be planted in neighboring fields to ensure maturity in time for the harvest season.Sometimes, when she drove along these roads, she couldn’t help but feel as if the pages of her calendar had drifted backward a hundred years to a simpler time when life was governed by people rather than technology. It was as if the world was passing the Amish by in so many ways, yet they didn’t care.For them, an open-top wagon or a gray-topped buggy was all the transportation they desired.For them, an inexpensive bolt of durable fabric and a sewing machine were all they needed to clothe their families.For them, communication with friends and family came not through social media and cell phones but, rather, with face-to-face visits.For them, mates weren’t found with the help of Internet dating sites.
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