I have this adorable postcard pinned to a bulletin board on the wall by my computer. I bought it in a shop during a visit to Lancaster county years ago. A half-dozen little piglets are being herded down a dirt path by an Amish man and his son. The little piglets are very different, if you can imagine that. They're not all the same color. Some are lighter skinned, some are darker. One has little spots.

I intended to write a message on it and send it to my mother. She grew up on a farm in Indiana and I knew it would bring back memories. I wasn't sure if there were any little piglets on the farm, but the card had such a charming picture of farm life about it.

But I never got mailed it. That postcard was one of the inspirations for me to write Amish stories. Other items that contributed were a package of soup mix with dried vegetables that made a warm, satisfying soup one cold winter night, and a trio of little ivory colored pumpkins. One inspiration isn't tangible because I wouldn't photograph the endearing scene of a sweet young Amish mother who was talking to her litle tow-headed boy about a nativity scene at Christmas time.  

I like postcards because I've never been a very good photographer. In years past, cameras and I seemed to have a strange, dysfunctional relationship. They'd malfunction on me or I'd forget to have the film developed. Or the pictures were never quite what I envisioned they'd be -- something I've come to realize is part of a creative "thing" whereby the image is never quite as good as my imagination of how it'll look. Sometimes what I see is so vivid it's seared on my memory I don't think to take a photo or  I start writing about it on pieces of paper from my purse ... so I don't get around to using that new digital camera that seems to be just what will help me become a better photographer.

So I love postcards and buy them everywhere I visit. Sometimes I write messages on them and sometimes I keep them. I always insist that my friends send them to me when they travel. One friend went to Venice, the place I dream of visiting one day, and mailed me back a postcard of gondolas floating in a canal, photogaphed against a misty twilight. Since she's an English and reading teacher, she included a few lines of poetry the card evoked for her.

Many of you who read this blog have visited Amish communities in person or through your imagination as you've read Amish stories. Have you bought postcards and written messages to friends and family, or just penned a letter to them? I'd love to hear some of your impressions of what you saw, who you spoke with, how you felt. I'd love to read a card from you from Amish land...

Wishing we were there together,

Barbara