Old Order Mennonite Memoirs

The great effort of whopping the Cove with its first snow storm, complete with fierce winds, tuckered out young November. This second-to-last month of the year grew sleepy with half-closed eyes and hasn't recovered yet. As I am writing on Nov. 8, the winds are completely calm. Our farm and all the surrounding valley seems to bask in a warm sun. The mountain ridges that suffered from that May storm, hold tenaciously to their leaves, now subdued in subtle shades of rust and bronze. Yellow leaves drop lazily onto the brick patio while pink petunias and snapdragons bloom defiantly, survivors of wi...