(Carpets in the shed. I bought the one on the right for $28.)

This is an especially hectic time at the Miller Farm up the road.

Two of Moise’s children are moving here, and he is organizing temporary barn and house raising for both of them. I can’t help him build anything, but I can fill in some cracks.

All of his crops are planted, and help will soon be arriving to build his new barn and his new home.

The Amish do not hire contractors to build their buildings. Moise has hired a firm to bring and pour concrete for the foundations of his buildings – it’s just too much for him right now.

Some friends and some strangers and some nephews and in-laws come and work long and hard hours to get the buildings up in a matter of days.

I’m learning that Amish women are much more powerful in the home than people might think. Like sons, they are central to the survival of the Amish. They know it, too. Although they will defer to their husbands or elders if there is a difficult issue or difference of opinion, they have authority and autonomy. The women are vital to what the Amish do.

It is patriarchy for sure, but not a dictatorship.

I haven’t witnessed any deference yet; Barbara and their daughters were in their kitchen preparing lunch for the workers building the temporary house, just four or five miles away.

The Amish really are a gentle people; they speak softly to one another and strangers.

Once the plowing was done, the girls took charge of selling vegetables and fruit, maintaining the gardens, and watering the thousands of seedlings and plants. They take care of the horses, the new goat, the dog.

They also get up early to bake donuts, pies, rugs, cookies, and buns. Tuesdays and Thursdays are laundry days; they are in charge of that as well.

Like their brothers, they work hard, and I have never seen them all day without work to do. When Moise is away or when he is busy, Barbara steps in gracefully and runs things. She is not afraid to make decisions.

When Barbara is not around either, two of three of the older sisters step in and are clearly in charge; they are not reluctant to make decisions either.

Today the girls made a special Amish lunch (more about that later) for the boys and men building the temporary house.

Today, in brutal heat, I saw one girl after another march barefoot out into the heat to water the horses and water every single one of the hundreds of plants and seeds planted in their pastures.

Many had to be watered by hand; they were just out of range of the water pipes.

I have never heard an adult Amish person raise a voice to one another or a child or a spouse, and I have seen nothing that looks or feels like coercion to me, although I am certain it occurs. And I understand it might well occur when I am not there.

These are human beings, not saints. But the women I have talked to seem to feel important and values, and secure. I’m guessing they make trade-offs as well.

I don’t judge them, and I am grateful that they don’t judge me.  I feel like a kind of family member to them, and I am beginning to trust that. It is because we trust one another.

I come and go and am always looking for a photo to take. Nobody blinks an eye. The dog jumps into my arms and reaches up to lick me on the chin.

Moise and his family and I are comfortable with one another now, and when I came back from visiting the barn-raising workplace today, I am no longer concerned about my photography.

Barbara and the girls gather around me automatically, waiting for me to take out my Iphone and show them every single picture. I know not to focus on anyone’s face, and they know I respect their beliefs and wishes.

I feel like some affable grandfather who tries to help out with all of the age limitations. Moise and I are more than that; I know it.

I can order stuff online, drive people to bus and train stations, and Moise and I seem to have known one another in other lives. He loves to go over his plans for the farm with me, insisting that I know something about it.

Moise is eager to show me the hard work he does; he rarely inquires about me or my life. He did ask me how old I was the other day and how long Maria and I had been married.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, he is putting together my life. But slowly and carefully, in the same way, I am piecing together his.

As a former reporter, grilling people – even Amish people – is second nature to me. I ask many questions about being Amish; Moise is comfortable talking about his plans, family, work, and faith. We don’t go deeper than that; his work in the church is not something we talk about.

We are not best friends. That would be inappropriate.

His best friend is his brother-in-law, who lives in the edge of town. Jacob is a lively, funny man, and I think he is another business genius. He’s told about 20 wooden raised flower beds and is swamped with orders for sheds.

They began this adventure, moved together, searched for the right property together, and built homes and barns.

Family and God both come before any other thing.

No Amish person can really have a best friend who lives outside of the culture, and no person who lives outside of the culture can get too close to an Amish person.

The Amish believe their survival depends on the strength of their community.

That is the boundary between Moise and me; it is fine with both of us.

We each make room for our friendship; it is strong and mutual, and valuable. I believe I get a perfect friend and something wonderful to write about, and I believe he gets the recognition and interest of a person he respects and values.

We each need what the other offers.

Many women are troubled by the idea that Amish women have no choice and are coerced into lives of submission and deference in the service of acknowledged patriarchy.

I wish I could speak more directly about that, but I’m not there yet.

I can’t say what is inside everybody’s heads; I can only report that the families, males, and females alike, that I have met seem content and fulfilled, happier with their lives and choices than most of the people I know.

Our own society is a festering and divided mess; I don’t see where we get the right to tell other people how to live. I certainly do not feel I have that right.

Today, I went to the farm to get reimbursed for $200 in pie boxes I ordered online. Barbara and Moise each get uncomfortable if we don’t “settle up” instantly; it’s a point of honor to them and their children,  so I try to get the receipts to them quickly, and I am reimbursed instantly.

I delivered more math workbooks. I won’t take money for those.

Tomorrow I go to Maddie’s, Moise’s sister, to pick up the Amish Straw Hat being made for me at the suggestion of Moise’s kids. Maria insists on buying this for me; Maddie said she would take $20 for it.

I am also bringing a book to read stories to young Jacob, who is three years old and works on his reading.

He is the son of Maddie and Jacob.

We each break out laughing when we see one another.

We love to thumb wrestle with each other, and I am lifted when he rides by in a horse cart and sees me waving his straw hat in the air and yelling “Jon! Jon!” with excitement and joy.

I yell right back. Tomorrow, I’m reading Dr. Seuss. To him, Both parents approved.