This morning, I went up to the Miller farm, as I often do.

This morning, I brought a one-peck basket for Barbara and the girls to gather and sell vegetables.

Barbara asked me if I could find a bushel basket (yes) and a 1/2 bushel basket (no luck there yet.)

I check in to see if they need more candy bars for the raising (they need one more box) and also if they need ice cubes to cool the drinks of the many additional workers headed their way.

I can do the candy bars today. I’ll track down the baskets.

The men were all at the worksite, tidying up,  sawing lumber, getting ready for the big day Wednesday.

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I had a surprise when I rode past the barm; the two huge brown draft horses I’ve seen hauling so much lumber were standing right by the road and starting to walk into it.

Our road is a busy high with curves, and a collision between the horses and a car was not possible to bear.

I pulled the car right in front of the horses sideways to block any further movement and hopped out of the car with emergency lights flashing. I just hoped nobody was racing around that curve.

I waved to the cars coming to slow down, and they did.

The horses and I know one another pretty well. By then, I remembered to stay calm and be clear. I’m not Amish, so I can boast a bit. I did a good job.

I took hold of one of the harness straps on the left side of the horse on the left side of the wagon and clicked softly, as I’ve heard Moise do.

The horses walked alongside me, and I got them on the dirt path that runs along the front of the vegetable crops a few feet from the road.

The horses came easily and without any struggle.

I know they are obedient horses; I just had to be Amish-y for a few minutes and get my head and demeanor straight. They sure are big. If they chose, they could run right over me. But that would be un Amish like, I thought.

The horses are as calm as everyone else up there.

Once the horses started moving, I jumped back into the car and pulled it right along their outer side so they couldn’t turn into the road.

They walked slowly, right alongside, as I imagined they might have been trained to do.

It seemed a long way, but it was only about 100 feet to the shed. I have to be honest; once I got them away from the road, I wasn’t nervous at all. This would be fun.

I got the car right next to them, and they walked quietly but steadily to the shed.

Barbara, one of the Amish daughters was inside, stocking the shed for the sales today. She was quite shocked to see me and the horses coming but she pulled off a great movie-like stunt out of the golden days of Hollywood.

She jumped right up onto the long wagon they were pulling, took a wide chariot stance got the horses turning up towards the farm.

By the time I turned around and got up to the new barn, she came down the other side looking like a warrior queen on her chariot.  She was magnificent, holding the reins in a firm grip and giving her commands.

I got to the barn first. Moise and his crew were inside on a coffee break. This would be sweet, I thought.

They were having coffee while the older man down the road was rounding up their horses, and his daughter was riding them back to the barn.

“Hey, Moise, your horses were in the road,” I said not too quietly. A lot of heads snapped right up. Before they could move, I said it was taken care of.

“I walked them back, and your daughter is riding them right to the barn.”

At that time, Barbara (not the mother) came gliding up the back road to the barn. She jumped off, tied the horses, waved, and headed back to the house.

I had some fun with Moisy.

“What is this?” I said, “you’re on coffee break while your draft horses are on tour outside the farm?” (This was a fairly gross exaggeration, but I was going to run with it.)

Eli’s eyes were about to pop out of his head; the young Amish men were looking at me like I just stepped out of a spaceship.

I pretended to be upset and tried to glower. Moise wasn’t buying it.

“This looks like something the English would do,” I said, pretending to be indignant. I have fun poking Moise now and then. He never speaks poorly of English or anyone else. I don’t think he minds when I do it.

Moise was l laughing by now and was puffing away on his pipe.

The sight of Moise and Eli and their workforce all sitting in a circle talking and taking a well-deserved rest and the image of Sarah riding in on her huge chariot would have both made for stunning photographs.

The restrictions on me are chewing me up.

One of the things I love about Moise was this: Almost anyone else in his position would have asked me not to mention the near escape of the draft horses or the fact they broke their tether and took a walk.

People ask me not to take pictures if their eyebrows are too long.

It never occurred to Moise to stop me from anything I might do with this. I didn’t have a picture, but I had a pretty good story.

“Damnit,” I said, forgetting not to curse, “now I wish I had a camera.”

I didn’t want to break up their rest period; it is well deserved. I waved and headed back to the car.

“Johnny,” I heard Moise yell behind me, “thank you (horses are important to the Amish); at least you got something to write; you got one of your stories!”

He got me there. He understands what a good story means to me. I had nothing to complain about.

I shut up and left.