**Hay Field, Barefoot Farm, Summer 2023. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
I have learned so much from the Old Order Mennonites living close by me, primarily a brother and sister duo named John and Sarah. The very first day I met them, it was in July of 2021, I had been scouring the hills out back of our home looking for raw honey for pAra potions - I could see bee boxes galore but could not figure out who’s they were. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone out here in the country…I wasn’t sure if I could just stop in. Was that intrusive or rude…or maybe threatening? I have since found that this is exactly what you do at the farm houses *if you have a Mennonite with you. So, you pull in and yell, knock, and sometimes walk right in. (*If you are a new face and not a Mennonite, this can be tricky). I had seen this one white bearded guy in old world farmer garb, torn up straw hat, suspenders, on a wagon almost every day for a few weeks. As I searched the hills out back of our home, Skyhouse, he was almost always pulling out in front of me with a crew of giant blonde Belgian work horses and a 1700s era wagon attached to them. When I waved at him, I got a stare in return. He didn’t seem friendly. He had a wild look in his pale blue eyes. But thinking back, it was uncanny that he was almost always in the road as I drove by.
**Potato Sign, Barefoot Farm, Summer 2025. ©Christine M. Whitney 2025
After a few weeks of exploring the hills, there was a hand made rudimentary “potato” sign with hand painted lettering hanging on one of the out buildings and it seemed like that meant it was ok to stop by for a purchase. It turned out that this potato sign was the white bearded farmer’s and that farmer turned out to be John. As I pulled in, he was behind the out building looking busy but stopped to chat with me. He was actually really friendly, that was a relief. I learned later that in their culture stoicism is taught to the men and often they express very little emotion until they know you really well or maybe some not at all. We chatted and shortly realized that we were on the same wavelength about much of the ongoings in the world and became fast friends. Friendly enough that he pulled his pant leg up to show me his leg wound which left me gasping for air. A large part of his shin was purple and open. It looked like he needed to go to the ER right away. But he said he had this open sore for 6 years and he just bears it even though it pains him horribly. The caretaker in me went to work on healing remedies in my mind right away as John showed me around the farm. I was invited into the house which is straight out of the 1700’s, right down to every detail, forks, spoons, furniture, wall paint..and dilapidation as though they live in a depression era. I met Sarah - she had a handkerchief around her head and donned a downright dirty mennonite dress. She acted reserved in the presence of a stranger,(me), but wanted to share her song books right off the cuff (and Sarah is really not a reserved person - you will come to find out she’s loud and says whatever pops into her mind). I remember her saying that the “Mennonites aren’t all angels ya know!” A dirty spoon was plopped into the apple butter and offered to me, so I graciously and reluctantly accepted it…and lived. I don’t like apple butter and I'm squeamish not only about dirty spoons but about even sharing a drink with just about anyone but it was a sweet gesture and my accepting it seemed to grow trust between us. Scott (my husband) and I were invited to John and Sarah’s for that Sunday to listen to them sing and share on their lives. As I left, Sarah yelled out the door in a curt and instructive tone, “And don’t bring any instruments on Sunday!” ... strange to assume and off-putting, but I was still intrigued. My Dad calls this being a “culture vulture”, that is a perfect way to describe me in this scenario.
*Sarah "Preparing" Cookies, Barefoot Farm. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
*This photo may not be used by anyone for any reason.
I went home with such a surge of curious excitement energy…I felt like I had stepped into another time. I could not believe anyone still lives like they do. I told Scott he HAD to come see this place. He thought I was a little nuts, but agreed to come which was really sweet because this kind of thing isn’t as intriguing to him as it is to me.
We arrived that Sunday as unoffensive looking as we could - this is actually really important in their world - being well covered and that women are wearing a dress or skirt is highly favored. I had on a long country skirt and a button down top that made me look pretty country bumpkin and Scott wore a button down shirt and black jeans. Upon arrival we presented them with cheese, bread, hummus, and fruit. Sarah had never seen hummus and inquired about it….then she put the gifts on her table and pulled them away from us and said, “we don’t eat with strangers”. That was stunningly rude I thought, but I gave it a lot of space because I knew our cultures were vastly different. We were with them probably 3 or 4 hours that day. They talked A LOT. And they sang, A LOT. (When I say a lot I mean like 10 songs in row with almost no talking in between - I can only take so much of this kind of thing and was kinda zoning out) They sang really old time songs to us, religious, old time farm songs and some about orphans. Scott listened intently to all the lyrics..he was inquisitive and to them that meant everything…they were sure he just adored the songs and the singing. Scott did not return to their house until Christmas that year for round 2. haha. But I was so intrigued, that I stepped into a familial relationship with them that I never ever would have seen coming.
**Me and the heirlooms, Barefoot Farm, Summer 2023. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
One night when I was on my way home from an errand, I was flagged down and asked to help pick tomatoes, which I jumped at. To me that was like going apple picking near NYC which I hear costs near $100/head now. (And is completely backwards if you ask me) Tomato picking at sun down where there are no lights, the pastels uninterrupted by electric lights, and seeing the stars poke their way through the darkening sky as I pulled an 1800’s style spring wagon loaded with tomato buckets down a dark country road, this was my segue into their way of life.
*The Spring Wagon, Barefoot Farm 2023. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
In their presence, I am often confronted with how materialistic and convenient my life can be and also how soft I am. They are tough, as in toughened to nature. I’m also reminded of the simple joys that I might miss because I’m uncomfortable, focus veered off, because of the addiction to instant gratification of comforts like being too hot, or too cold, in pushing through an arduous task, or in being able to pluck anything I might want from a grocery store or from online….(And of course this is a fine line here and whole lot more to discuss but I will save it for another time). Like being on the hay wagon in the heat, if you can get past the hottest part of the experience, the magic of the early evening air and setting sun will take hold and transfix my whole body…it’s like floating in another dimension. The forest layers in soft velvety deep green and sage hues that magnetize me, pulling me into them, it's as if I could fly to them. And then the softness of laying in the hay as the wagon billows over the field is the most wondrous experience. Laying on the giant hay bed, piled 12 feet high, staring up at the stars, and listening to the horses breath and clop, it brought me back from the dead of city life.
I am not a city girl. I never was, but I lived there for over 20 years in what felt like a trap to me and only became more evidently a trap as I emerged from it. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. And while there is incredible beauty in the food, culture, art and energy of the creativity and people in the city, natural surround is not easy to come by…the serenity, the freedom of space, sound and the freedom of not needing hoards of money (because of all that the land provides when you are close to her). I missed it for so long having grown up in the north of Maine spending summers on a quiet lake brimming with life and a quiet that made you wonder if the windows were open or closed…a world seemingly long lost. It leaves me in a state of intense daily gratitude for my return.
So …the Old Order Mennonites. They live on another plane of existence and when I first knew them I sometimes thought they were a figment of my imagination. I thought I might drive out to their farm and there would be nothing but land. So far that has not happened. They have fairy energy as if they might just disappear …and maybe reappear later or elsewhere. Upon stepping foot onto their land, you often can hear joyful singing on the air...high in an apple or cherry trees or in the gardens. They bring a whole different energy to me because of their way of life. Not only is there a sheer joy in living so close to nature, but also there are so many less frequencies surrounding them. Their life is without electricity, cell phones and internet. They do not go to grocery stores and restaurants, they do not drive cars, there is no telephone in the house, and not even propane burning lights.
When I first met John, he had on a pair of red wing boots that were tied around his foot by hay bale twine because there was no leather left around the sides of the foot to hold them together. He said how he loved them because they give his feet “air-conditioning”. And all I could think was that this poor man cannot afford shoes! So we bought him some new red wings around Christmas time. His reaction to the gift was not what I expected. He was so quiet and gave me a look that seemed to say he was taken aback. He seemed to whisper a quiet "ohhh" and that was all. No one taught them to say thank you and I didn't know that. But he was wearing them soon after and still is. Perhaps the shoes being entirely new was shocking. Over time, I learned that they will wear any clothing item to absolute shreds before using a new one, I mean socks with the entire front of the foot missing will still be used, long underwear that is unrecognizably holey, that type of thing. And they usually have a plethora of clothing items in the closet that will probably never all be used before they die. They have a thing about "no waste" that is beautiful but also hedges on a sense of lack - the fine line again - my rationale for no waste is quite different from theirs. They don't waste anything partly because of the idea that there may not be enough -"waste not want not"- which is admirable and truly, it impresses on me how wasteful I can be and slows me down. Part of my own wastefulness is from moving at speed and being entrapped in convenient ways of living.
The state of their comfort which seems like it’s a 2 on a scale of 1-10 (1 being the most uncomfortable) has unfurled a force for bringing nourishment, softening and beauty into their lives. If I have something that might make their life more comfortable (like a new pillow for their bed), I want them to have it. And many times, they won't accept the offering because of church rules or it being seen as indulgent perhaps. Actually, it took about 3 years for the pillow to be accepted. And probably I'm the only one sleeping better at night because of it.
*John with his herd, Barefoot Farm 2023. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
*This photo may not be used by anyone for any reason.
More about their life so that you get a good picture. They live in an insulated society - if they are even seen with an outsider it goes around the village like lightning being talked about and questioned. They get the local paper (and read every square inch of it), and the rest of the outside world information comes through neighbors stopping by to chat and give their thoughts on current world situations and maybe show them a news blip on their phones. This keeps them focused on what's right in front of them, and they accomplish A LOT. They live off their land and rarely leave for trips to any place even locally unless it’s business related. And while this is quite confining, they are so deeply connected to the rhythms of nature, undistracted by so much that takes us from the essence of being here on this stunning planet. Their bare feet grace the ground spring, summer and fall. Their entertainment is singing, gardening, bird song identification, the pitter patter of rain, the rising and setting sun, the starry nights, the clop of horses passing (and hilariously always checking to see who it is in that buggy). Their life is also filled with a religious seriousness at times about not becoming idle, because “it may get them into trouble”…so the thinking is, stay very busy with near constant work except Sundays, the day of rest. The work involves farming, gardening, logging, harvesting, cleaning & packing and selling produce, canning, cooking, baking, mending, sewing, weaving, building structures and rudimentary machines and fixing them all by themselves for the most part.
*Sarah hoing the Onion Patch, Barefoot Farm 2023. ©Christine M. Whitney 2023
The evenings are by dim candle light and sometimes no light or just barely enough light to see, I think this is to help alleviate kerosene usage. Pinching pennies. Everything is squeezed to the last drop and used sparingly unless it’s coming from an apple tree that they can’t keep up with. This is where nature gets it over them.
And this is something I absolutely revel in..the abundance that nature brings is INTENSE. There is often SO much coming from one plant or tree, especially fruit trees (which offer the ultimate human light food!). You can’t be sparing, there is no way at all to do this. John and Sarah will often try to gather every last apple and can them, bake them, make juice and/or give them away or sell them to someone. They will sometimes go around in circles trying to get rid of all the fruit and exhaust themselves doing so. It’s very sweet, but it really compounds on the lack frequency. I witnessed monkeys in Costa Rica taking one bite of their mango and chucking it…and grabbing another one. Doesn’t that speak volumes about nature’s abundance? We really do not have to use every thing that appears available and free for the taking. That can be applied to so many things and is another can of worms.
And yet, just about everyone has been subject to the conditioning that there’s not enough of just about all planetary gifts these days and while I know we have problems with misuse and pillaging, I really do believe our biggest problem is stealthily hijacked systems, hijacked humans, and the disconnect from nature, not lack. And I'm not blaming anyone. It looks to me like we've been infiltrated from within from our birth and thankfully some of us are seeing this as clear as day now.
This brings to mind one last thing for now. John once said to me, “In the country, we rely on each other and there is great trust in that.” Wise words that I can attest to. If we can trust in each other and in nature, there is more than enough for us all.
And for that I'm so grateful.
With Love,
Christy
PS I have posted images where John and Sarah's faces are not so visible to protect their identities. *These photos are owned by the me, the photographer, and in no way are available to anyone for any reason.