Read In the Land of Milk and Honey for Free Online Page B

Lancaster Local Bounty a year ago with a vision of taking goods from Lancaster County Amish farms to the farmers’ markets in Philadelphia and, eventually, New York. It was a ton of work, and it had taken her some time to find Amish farmers who would work with her. But she was hopeful that by next year she’d be turning a profit. She wasn’t trying to get rich. She rented a one-bedroom apartment in an old row house in downtown Lancaster, and she drove an older pickup truck that was paid off. But she did have to pay rent and eat, and there were the booth fees at the farmers’ markets and gas. She just wanted to do what she believed in and make enough not to go in the hole on a monthly basis. Her savings from years of working at a local health food market had about run out, and now that she was divorced there was no financial buffer.
    But this—this right here—was why it was worth it: visiting, feeling a part of these beautiful small farms.
    Amber and Rob got out of the truck. Levi came out of the house to greet them. He was wearing his standard garb—black pants, white long-sleeved shirt, black suspenders, wool jacket, and black hat. It looked like he’d just finished his “second breakfast,” having probably been up for hours. He nodded at them.
    â€œAmber. Rob. Mornin’.”
    Rob grunted. He wasn’t much of a morning person either.
    â€œMorning, Levi!” Amber said brightly. “Looks like it’ll be a nice day.”
    â€œJa. Think so.” Levi looked at the sun, still low on the horizon. The sky was blue and without a cloud. The chill of night was still sharp. There was a touch of frost on the rolling fields. It was breathtaking. Daffodils bloomed in profusion around the Fishers’ farmhouse porch, making it feel like spring despite the cold.
    â€œHave everythin’ ready ta go.” Levi walked toward one of the cement outbuildings he used for cool storage.
    Amber followed. She and Rob, Levi, and one of Levi’s sons loaded boxes of early spring produce into the back of Amber’s truck. There were three different kinds of lettuces, spinach, some small red and white radishes Amber thought would sell well, spring onions, bunches of lovely asparagus, and the first flush of strawberries. Amber took everything Levi offered. Fresh produce was sparse this time of year. He tallied it up, scribbling on a notepad.
    â€œHow much milk d’ya wanna take today?” he asked.
    â€œHow much can you spare?”
    â€œTen gallons. Gotta hold some back for my regular customers.”
    â€œI’ll take them. I always sell out of the milk by noon, no matter how much I take.”
    He smiled at that, looking pleased. “It’s gut milk.” He added the gallons to the total.
    Amber hoped she could pick up more milk at her next few stops. She liked to take at least twenty gallons to the Philly market, even on Tuesdays. She was currently working with five Amish farmers, all of them super nice people. From two other farms she got produce and milk, much like she did from Levi. The Red Barn sold her bundles of fresh herbs plus sugar and gluten-free baked goods made by Lyah Augsburger. And the Beacheys had fantastic cheese made from goat’s milk.
    Unfortunately, Amber had to pay the farmers up front. She’d tried talking them into letting her take the goods on spec, but they hadn’t been interested. Still, they offered her a good discount. And usually she sold enough of it to cover her investment, if not much else.
    She wished more people understood what a
privilege
it was to be able to get local produce raised chemical-free direct from Amish farms, and how important it was to support them by buying direct. Small family farms like this were all but gone in other parts of the U.S., replaced by thousand-acre empires farmed by huge machines. These people worked hard and had a challenging way of life. Why, just yesterday there’d been a