I foolishly thought Moise might be taking Saturday off, but when I showed up yesterday, I saw that he and his sons had hammered wooden sills onto every single one of the concrete forms that show the walls of the new barn.

They had also worked for hours to clean up the enormous mess from the week’s work. The barn inside is done.

With the sills in, they can build fence posts and supports, windows and walls.

As always, I was shocked at the precision and detail and how professional it looked. I keep thinking some of them must be engineers.

But the truth is, they all are. Trained at birth to work and learn things.

Moise shrugged and said they used levels and relied on their own experiences. I’m impressed.

Their economical working style and preparation save enormous amounts of time. They have all done this before, even the very young, and they get to it.

There was a different atmosphere at the site yesterday, almost like a battlefield after the battle. Usually, the site is spotless. People were leaving things behind after a week’s labor.

The barn’s dimensions are becoming clear; Moise looked well into the figure to plan every last detail.

I tried to take photographs that capture the tenor and feel the worksite, not just the wood and concrete. The draft horses do enormous work, transporting the wood, the concrete sacks, the nails, and the ties.

The kids are cleaning up.

Moise controls the horses beautifully; they back into corners and stand still when they need to, and are incredibly strong when it comes to pulling.

Moise knows how to back them and weave them into the tightest corners and brush.

 

I saw some signs of the workers today – hammers, nails, pitchers for water. Moise’s tool belt is working out for him. I see he takes 10-minute breaks in the heat every few hours, no more than that.

There are many walls in this barn, which tells us something about the number of things it’s going to be used for.

They’ve begun smoothing out a new road alongside the barn, smoothing it and dumping rocks to make sure it is smooth and can handle the traffic coming to this side of the barn.

As I left the farmhouse and went into the kitchen to deliver some ice cubes, I found a mob of strong young women and big strapping brothers gathering to challenge me to a rematch of the thumb wrestling rout I inflicted upon them yesterday.

The shortest came first, then the biggest, and the biggest were tall and strong. They seem quite serious and determined.

“I hope you took your Wheaties today,” I said proudly, “cause I’m going to whup you again. I am the Word, after all!”

I started with the youngest and the shortest and dispatched each one, starting from Little Sarah to Lena, the oldest. I polished them all off, one by one.

Then came the big strapping boys and men, well with a gleam in their eye, eager to beat this balding older man who had the gall to challenge them.

Once again, it was a rout; I beat them too, one after another, all of them. I guess I still have some testosterone left.

I did my Muhammed Ali rope-a-dope and raised my arms in the air. “It’s eight wins for the old man, zero for the tough and lean Miller family!”

( I know this truly bizarre winning streak with the Millers will end soon and poorly for me, but I’m soaking up every minute of it! They are zeroing in, I can feel it.)

Moise came in for a drink and watched for a bit, then headed for the door. “What’s the matter, big man?” I asked, “you got a sore thumb.”

He turned and laughed at me and headed for the door.  He wasn’t biting a second time.

“You might want to be here around 5 a.m. to see us start on the middle walls.”

It’s interesting Moise was taught to be humble like all Amish are, but they can’t completely mask vanity, the pride in a hard job well done.

Moise has been careful to let me know what is happening every day and make sure he explained the work in the voice and language he uses to explain things to clueless English.

Delilah came over with somebody’s new four-month-old baby and challenged me with her left hand while holding the baby with the right. I beat her handily.

They all gracefully gave me a chair and promised to build up their thumb strength over the weekend.

“Round Two For Grandpop!” I yelled as I left. “See you Monday, suckers.” I’m not sure they knew what I meant.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “I don’t care about winning, just playing?”

I fled from the sound of jeers and hoots of derision. Maybe I’m the one eating the Wheaties, I wondered.

I had a feeling I would need them on Monday.