Do the Amish have refrigerators? Do they still use iceboxes?

Before I became acquainted with many Amish, I always wondered how they kept their food cold. Somehow I looked at them as campers, having big coolers or something similar. Maybe they had underground storage places, like root cellars. Well, many have root cellars but many still use iceboxes. Yes, as in an insulated unit where a block of ice is placed to cool the food.

It wasn’t that long ago that many people in America used them, my grandparents for one. My mom told me a story of how a salesman came to their house, most likely in the 30’s or 40’s, trying to sell my grandparents a new contraption called a refrigerator.  And they could be bought by paying in monthly installments. My grandparents declined, saying they had a perfectly good icebox already paid for. To buy something on credit was unheard of in those days, or maybe among Italians. They kept their icebox until it needed replaced, and then paid cash for a new refrigerator.

The Amish are similar to their way of thinking. If it works, keep using it. If not, consider other alternatives. The Amish I met in Lancaster County could not believe that my Amish friends in Smicksburg still cut ice, had ice houses to store the ice, and used iceboxes instead of refrigerators. Now, since there are so many types of Amish in Lancaster, I’m not saying there are none that don’t still use iceboxes. But the ones that I talked to laughed and said that my friends were “backwards Amish” compared to how modern they were.

So, I took my camera up to Smicksburg and asked Amish friends if I could take pictures of their icehouses and asked them why they still use iceboxes. “We like to cut ice,” was the men’s response.  They have shallow ponds where they cut ice with saws and it’s their annual ‘man frolic’, and something they cherish. This took me back. I’ve seen a dozen men on ice cutting it in frigid weather, and it doesn’t look like fun, but hard work.  But this is the Amish way of thinking: work and play are combined. And how they sing and laugh while doing it.

Of course, I wondered what the women thought of using iceboxes. They said, tongue in cheek, as long as the men carried in the huge ice blocks, it worked just like a refrigerator. And some were attached to their iceboxes in a nostalgic way. Now, their ordnung has changed since the Marcellus Shale is under W. PA and many Amish hire companies to drill for natural gas. So, some have natural gas powered refrigerators. The goal of Amish life is to live off the grid, and as long as there are no bills to pay, they're fine with it. They also use wind power, which makes it so picturesque to see windmills dotted all over the countryside.

 

 

All the icehouses are white to reflect heat.

They also match Amish homes, almost all being sided in white.

 

 

There are two well insulated doors on an icehouse.

They keep two years worth of ice just in case there's a mild winter.

 

Shelves are placed inside so it doubles as a freezer.

Why there's a watermellon in this one, I didn't ask.

 

Notice the insulation. It's about a foot thick!

 

 

 

 

These pictures of iceboxes are not mine, but from Wiki Commons.

 I've seen many styles of iceboxes in Amish homes, but the one on the right is the most common.

A cube of ice is put on the bottom left door.

 

 

Amish Winter Pictures shot in Smicksburg, PA

 

I'm not a professional photographer, but snow seems to make everything so angular, clean, and well, easy to fake that I'm a pro ;) Tim and I took our cameras up to Smicksburg after half a foot of snow fell. How crisp the air and everything around us was, and we want to share these favorite pictures with you. Smicksburg is approximately 60 miles NE of Pittsburgh, and so charming with many little shops, it the perfect destination for a vacation. For more info, contact www.smicksburg.net

 

 

 

 

 

A buggy port



Setting for Smicksburg Baptist Church in all my books.



Red barn set against white snow.

 

My favorite one-room schoolhouse.

 

Roman's Rocker Shop.

"Granny Weaver's" porch where the Amish Knitting Circle started. I visited Granny and she was canning pork. Her son, Roman, was slaughtering pigs in the barn. I did not visit Roman that day

 ;( I love pigs.

 

 

Many Amish have small greenhouses. This one can collapse if snow isn't removed so it's being shoveled off.

 

 

 

My favorite. An Amish snowplow.

 

 

 

Here's an Amish man I know who's making the path clear for the mailman. Rural routes are delivered by car and snow needs to be removed. The Amish write a lot of letters, and getting  mail's a real link to the outside world.

People walking everywhere. That's one thing you notice in Amish country. Taking a walk for pleasure of needing to get somewhere, they're always on their feet, even in frigid weather.

 

 

The Amish let us take a picture of these gorgeous horses. (They're hidden in the barn as no photos allowed of faces.) I've always loved cows, those big lugs pulling at my heart with their huge eyes. But an Amish friend thinks I should get a  horse at the local auction.  Hmm....as you age, you're supposed to try new things....never know ;)  

 

Stacks of corn still  line fields. Corn is important all year as feed for livestock and the deer seem to appreciate the stalks peeking up through the snow as well.

 

A buggy port

 

Another Weaver farm

 

 

One of the many Weaver brothers' farmhouses. This family, after having 8 boys, finally have a daughter and are pleased as can be.

Currier and Ives postcards all around us.

 

 

 

 

 

"Granny Weaver's" granddaughter on the road to Granny's. Martha is 15 and just loves nature.

 

 

My friend, Barb, and her nine children run these 2 large greenhouse.

How do the Amish shop? Thrifty tips to stretch your dollars

Before I knew any Amish folks, I had an advantage to thrifty shopping, since my mom and dad were both first-generation Italian/Croatian, respectively. When you see through the eyes of a foreigner, so to speak, you see the materialism and entitlement mentality that many Americans have. As my Italian grandma used to say if I wanted something big, “Hey Kad, you think you something-a special, uh?”

When I had four kids under the age of seven living in rural Upstate New York, I met many Amish, and became close with Harry and Katie Hershberger. He had a variety store attached to his house, being wheelchair bound, and we shopped there regularly. What struck me right off the bat was there was no pressure whatsoever from Harry to buy something. This is so simple, but hard to live by. We’re always bombarded with advertisements, but the Amish pay in cash, and know a penny only goes so far.

 One day, after picking Katie’s brain for cost effective recipes, she mentioned their food co-op. It was an “Amish only” closed bulk store. Instead of showing a card to get in, I was to say, “Harry and Katie sent me.” I’ll never forget our first visit. I had all four kids in tow, and we walked into the store behind an Amish house, and all eyes landed on me, full of suspicion. “Harry and Katie sent me,” I quickly said, and with relaxed faces and smiles, they welcomed us in. You see, a co-op is a lot of work for a few people, to benefit the Amish community. I didn’t contribute to their communal way of living and was about to reap its benefits, but that’s how much a real friendship with an Amish family is valued. I learned later we were called “Trusted English Friends.”

Back to shopping. My jaw dropped when I saw all the prices in this co-op. C-H-E-A-P. The Amish don’t believe in price gouging, but helping each other save. The women in the store give out recipes: cost saving recipes. The Amish collect these recipes, and try other ways of making it better with less money, as if it were an art form. My favorite to this day is making granola. The Amish put in everything edible but the kitchen hand pump, mix in gooey brown sugar syrup, and consume it. “The kids don’t know there’s stale cereal in there,” they’d say. Well, I tried it, and it works. J

 So, the Amish work hard to help each other save money, and we can do the same. When I see an item majorly on sale, I text people in my “co-op” and ask if they need any. When I go up to Smicksburg to Lydia dry good store, I contact my “co-op” and buy for them. They do the same, when they see a sale.

 I can’t really write this little article if I didn’t bring in the Amish love of Wal-Mart. If you ever want to see Amish people, go to a rural Wal-Mart! It’s so fun to watch them. They don’t go often, maybe once a month, but do they ever stock-up. There’s a bus from Smicksburg, PA to Indiana, PA, fifteen miles away, just to take the Amish to Wal-Mart once a month. I was at Lydia’s after one of her Wal-Mart sprees, and she and her husband were lit up and very animated. “Do you know how cheap it is to get walnuts at Wal-Mart?” they asked with glee, skipping around the kitchen, putting their groceries away. I had to hold back the laughter. The Amish really think it’s fun to save money.

Fun to save? Why? Like I said, when you pay cash for everything, you know there’s a limit, right? So, it’s almost like a game to them as to how much they can get with their dollars. I think there’s a real joy in a goal that’s met, too.

One thing that may shock you is that the Amish also attend garage sales, flea markets, second-hand stores and auctions. I saw a group of Amish women at my local Salvation Army. Of course, they weren’t buying clothes, but books to devour or household items, such as dishes, pots and pans etc. Many people wouldn’t be caught dead in a Goodwill of Salvation Army, but not me. I learned early in life from my Italian grandma, “I’m not something-a too special.” And since we pay cash now, too, I get really excited to see how I can stretch a dollar.

 Inside Lydia's dry-goods store. Most Amish co-ops and/or dry-goods stores look similar. What they have in common are prices around 2/3rds cheaper than retail stores, and healthy organic items.

A letter to my children on living out Amish Simplicity

I was listening to Joyce Meyer the other day, and something stuck me deeply. She spoke about the lack of peace she used to have, white-knuckling every decisions every day. Big decisions bring stress, and if you make them daily, you will have no peace or simplicity of mind…Hmmm. She was talking about my husband and me!  And then I thought of Suzanne Woods Fishers’ book, Amish Peace. The lacks of choices, Suzanne says, make the Amish not deprived, but free to not have to make so many decisions.

To understand this, I’d like to share a letter to my four adult “kids” to help them recognize that they inherited a white-knuckle mind from their father and yours truly.

 Dear kids,

Dad and I have been talking lately about what we learned from and the Amish, Suzanne Woods Fishers book, Amish Peace, and Joyce Meyer. We both tend to make life changing decisions daily, and know that it’s brought stress into our lives, and for me, unsettling dreams. Just over the past week, we talked about the following:

Should we go on vacation this year or not?

Should we get a Lab, a poodle or a Labradoodle?

Should we keep savings in dollars or invest in assets?

Should we buy the little house for sale down the road (an asset) to rent out as an investment?

Should we start another business? We can buy Amish rockers off of Roman at wholesale and sale online? It would help Roman and is a tax right-off.

Should I go to Costa Rica with dad on business trips, and if so, should I go out into impoverished areas and blog about poverty? Should I blog for Compassion?

We’re both making this the “Year of Health and Fitness”. Should we buy a rowing machine? Join Weight Watchers online or go into town for meetings?

So many people are hurting and I can’t keep up with making prayer shawls. Should I start a knitting circle, since more hands make light work?

Should we join a small group Bible study in our church?

Should we start a small group Bible study in our house?

Should we build a little cabin in our woods in Smicksburg, or get a retro trailer off Craigslist? If we build a tiny house cabin on wheels we pay no taxes and give employment to Melvin and Levi, our Amish friends.

Should we go to visit family in Italy this year, and if so, should I write about my awesome Italian grandma as a memoir?

Should we get a goat this year or expand our herd of chickens? Or get a cow? If we get a cow, we’ll need a pole barn, and that means employment for Amish friends.

We got a letter asking if they could do fragging on our fifteen acres in Smicksburg, which is on the Marcellus Shale. I threw the letter in the garbage, since it would upset the Amish who border our property. No, it bothers me that they’d would go in and cut down virgin trees. Am I anti-fragging or not? Do I want this country energy sufficient? Am I helping the Saudi’s?   

These aren’t even all the things we discussed, as some are private.

So, over the past weekend, we went out for our 32^nd wedding anniversary, and when we caught ourselves making “big decisions” we laughed and changed the subject. I cannot believe the peace this action produced. As you know, Dad and I love the Amish and are drawn to their culture, but is it the lack of decisions they have to make every day that we envy, in a good way? Time will tell, as we’ve decided to take time once a week or month to talk about big or troubling decisions. We suggest you all do the same... 

Love you more,

Mom

 

 Readers, I highly recommend Suzanne Woods Fishers book, Amish Peace, and Joyce Meyers’ Battlefield of the Mind to understand all I’m trying to say here. You can find them wherever books are sold. Oh, but they both have radio shows to listen to. Should you listen to their radio shows or buy their books? If you listen to the radio it’s free, leaving you money to invest, but not in dollars, as inflation is kicking in. LOL.

Please leave advice in the comments section if you’re looking to have more Amish simplicity of mind, and how you do it. For Tim and myself, we go often to Smicksburg, to detox from a busy world with too many choices. Lydia's living room, pictured below, according to blog stats, has had the most views than any other picture! Why do you think this picture draws so much attention world-wide?

 

 

 

Mary Ann Kinsinger of A Joyful Chaos blog and author of Adventures of Lily Lapp series shares an Amish Christmas memory

Mary Ann Kinsinger doesn’t live far from me in Western Pennsylvania, but it took Suzanne Woods Fisher, who Maryann co-wrote The Adventures of Lily Lapp with, to make the connection.  I was surprised that the author of the popular A Joyful Chaos blog lived in my backyard, and is now a friend.

I highly recommend you visit A Joyful Chaos to get an inside view of a real Amish family that’s as endearing as Little House on the Prairie. There’s a link to Mary Ann’s blog on the bottom of the page.

 

                  Christmas Memories  ~ A Joyful Chaos post

                                         December 10, 2009

 

I used to start thinking and planning for Christmas soon after school started each fall. My options for gifts were limited since we never had an allowance so anything I wanted to give I had to make myself.

I wasn't good at running our scroll saw in the shop like my brothers were so making wooden things were out of the question. I was nine and Christmas was fast approaching and the only thing I had ready was a little picture book I had made for Mahlon by sewing pieces of paper together and gluing pretty pictures in it that I had found in old Oriental Trading catalogs.

One evening as I was helping Mom unpack a new shipment of things and place them on our store shelves I had an idea. I asked her if I could have the empty box, after she granted me permission I took it upstairs where I carefully cut off a flap, and covered it with some old wall paper scraps. I then glued a plain sheet of paper in the middle and copied a poem about a mothers love onto it. There was still something lacking. I finally decided it still needs a pretty border. My teacher gave a sticker to anyone that got 100% in there lessons and I made up my mind to try extra hard to do my lessons carefully and use the stickers to create a border. It took quite awhile to save enough. Every evening I would run home from school with my hard earned stickers and carefully place them as a frame around the edges of the motto I was making for Mom.

I asked John to cut out some heart shaped pieces of wood and varnish them for me. I then painted a blue rose on the one and wrote Daddy on it. Then painted roses on the others and personalized them for John and David. I felt pleased with my efforts of creating gifts and hid them in a drawer until Christmas morning.

 

When Christmas morning arrived we were awake early but Mom and Daddy had told us to not get up until they called us. As the sun rose it seemed they would never be ready. Finally they called us and we went downstairs. The boys went out to the barn with Daddy to help with the chores while I helped Mom fix breakfast. We had our regular fried cornmeal mush with tomato gravy and eggs, and then oranges and a cold cereal for something special.

When Daddy and the boys came in from milking the cow and feeding all the animals, we all sat down for breakfast. After breakfast everyone helped with the dishes. And then Daddy got the Bible and read the Christmas story. It was the only day of the year that he would read to us so we all sat quietly and listened carefully. After he was done reading we children had to go back upstairs until they told us it was time to come down. We used to get the gifts we had made and put them in a grocery bag and sit on top of the stairs to try to listen what was happening in the kitchen.

 

When they called us we ran downstairs and at each of our places at the table was a pile of things covered with one of Mom's pretty kitchen towels. We uncovered the pile and found a plate filled with nuts to crack and a lot of different candy. The boys each got a new shirt and I had a new dress. We each had a little German songbook. We thanked them and then we noticed in the middle of the table was another covered pile. Daddy said that was for everyone to share. We uncovered it and found a pile of books. We were thrilled. We all loved reading and new books were something we all enjoyed.

John, David, and I gave the gifts we had made. Mom thanked me for the motto and hung it on her bedroom wall where it stayed until after I was married.

After we had cracked and eaten some of the nuts and read a chapter or two in our new books Daddy said slyly. I have a feeling we didn't find all our Christmas gifts yet. Why don't we all go down in the shop. We followed him downstairs and there in the lumber bin were three of the prettiest sleds I had ever seen. We hurriedly dressed ourselves in our warmest coats and went outside to try them out. We had a nice hill in the pasture behind the barn and for the rest of the afternoon we rode down that hill and trudged back up. The longer we played the longer the hill seemed when we had to pull our sleds back up but the ride down was so fun we kept on until we were too cold to continue.

We went inside and Mom opened the oven door in our Pioneer Maid cook stove and laid a thick towel on it. We pulled up chairs and rested our feet on it enjoying the delightful warmth that the oven poured over our feet. Mom popped some popcorn and peeled a bowlful of apples and we all sat around basking in the glow of happiness of having had another great Christmas.

 

 

 

 

A Christmas story by Mennonite author Marsha Hubler, reminding us to keep Christ in Christmas

Very happy to share a Christmas story from Mennonite author, Marsha Hubler. She's the author of The Loves of Snyder County and Snyder County Quilting Bee.(Helping Hands Press)  She writes from experience since she lives in Sydney County, PA, among many Mennonites and Amish. Her love for horses led her to write the best-selling  Keystone Stables Series (Zonderkids) 
Here's her story along with life application questions on how to keep the real meaning of Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE GIFT OF CHRISTMAS PAST

By Marsha Hubler

              “Mom, are you ready to help decorate?” Amber hurried into the living room and focused on her eighty-five-year-old mother sitting in a wheelchair and staring out the bow window. The woman didn’t answer.

 Carrying two plastic storage boxes packed to their limits with Christmas paraphernalia, Amber quickly placed the containers next to four others stacked in the center of the room and took a deep breath. Hands on hips, she studied the barren eight-foot artificial blue spruce that her husband Earl, the night before, had mounted in its favorite corner, the niche where it had displayed its splendor the last thirty holiday seasons.

 “We sure have our work cut out for us,” Amber said as she relaxed on the sofa next to her mother.

“We’re going to decorate the tree now.” Amber’s gaze focused on the frail likeness of the woman she had known, and loved, all her life. The woman who had brought her into the world, had loved her sacrificially, had introduced her to Jesus, had come to live with her ten years ago…who now had Alzheimer’s.

“What are you looking at?” Amber hoped this time her mother might focus enough on the question to give an answer.

“A bird,” her mother said convincingly. “It’s building a nest.”

Amber hunched next to the wheelchair and slipped her arm around her mother’s bony shoulders. “Where’s the bird, Mom?” she asked. “I don’t see it.”

“There!” her mother’s shaky voice said as she pointed her bony finger. “Way up in the top of that tree. Do you see it?”

“Yes, I see it. It’s very pretty.” Amber hated that she had lied to her mother once again, but the last six months had proven that trying to reason with the woman’s deteriorating mind was an exercise in futility. Amber glanced outside at the six inches of fresh snow and crystal icicles that sparkled with the noon day’s sun. It was that special time of year again when the house was transformed, both inside and out, into a palace of glitter by the season’s charm. The wind blew wisps of snow that only added to the beauty of God’s latest creation, a landscape garbed in a lacy robe of delicate white.

Amber gave her mother a gentle hug as they both stared out the window. Amber’s eyes moistened as memories of her childhood flooded her mind. She studied all the boxes…waiting to take her into those wonderful Christmases from the past…begging for one more glance.

“Well, we better get started!” Amber said, grabbing one of the boxes. Carefully she pried off the lid to the container labeled “Tree Ornaments” and found a set of  antique porcelain balls, the deepest of blues, which stirred one of her earliest memories as a child. Those years were so difficult when Dad had no time for God or us.

Amber picked up one of the balls and held it for her mother to see. “Mom, do you remember all these blue balls? Remember the year we bought that monstrous tree, the one Dad despised as soon as he wrestled it into the trunk of our old Chevy? He drove home in a huff and threw the tree in one of the corners in the den, leaving the decorating to the whims of two starry-eyed females, who somehow still found joy in the midst of such ugliness. Remember the coal and bucket—and how hard it was to balance that heavy pine? I thought that tree was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen because you and I had decorated it together.”

“Yes, I remember,” Mother said, her stare reaching far beyond the ball.

“This same blue ball also reminds me of the year Dad managed to remain sober. Somewhere you got the idea to have a “different” kind of tree, so the three of us hiked in the woods until we found just the right one—a maple, not too tall, barren of every leaf. After we dragged it home and Dad mounted it in a bucket, we wrapped each limb and every thin branch with white cotton. We thought we’d never complete the task! But, oh, how gorgeous it was when you and I dressed it in blue lights and blue Christmas balls. Do you remember all the friends and relatives who dropped by that year just to marvel at the sight?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“And, Mom, you’ll never guess what else I found as I prowled around the basement. That suede cowgirl jacket with all the fringe! Remember how excited I was to open my present that year? I had dreamed about that jacket for months.”

“You always loved horses, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I still do.” Amber placed the ball back in its resting place and lifted out a small tattered, taped and re-taped cardboard box that held a special childhood memory.

“Mom, look what else I found—your miniature manger scene. Isn’t this the one you bought in 1950 when you opened your beauty shop, and from that first year on you always put this in your shop window at Christmastime? Would you believe that every piece is still intact?” Amber sat on the sofa and carefully searched through the box until she found the baby in his manger. She held up the piece for her mother to see. “Do you remember this?”

“Yes, I remember. That’s the baby Jesus.”

“And Jesus is our Savior too,” Amber said, walking to another container and opening the lid. Wrapped in white tissue paper, right on the top, rested a special ornament. Amber lifted out the ball, removed the paper, and went back to her mother’s side.

“Look, Mom, I found our favorite ornament of all—the one with the picture of our first Christmas together after Dad was saved—our first holiday as a real family. Do you remember the church service on Christmas Eve that the three of us sat together for the first time ever? Dad sang at the top of his lungs with a huge smile on his face. At last we could celebrate Christ’s birth as one.”

“Yes,” Mother said with glassy eyes. “I remember.”

“It’s hard to believe that Dad’s in heaven five years already, celebrating with Jesus, the one who made it all possible. Do you miss Dad at all?” Amber asked.

“Not too much,” her mother said.

“Well, I miss him at times like this. I sure could use his help today.”

“Yes, we sure could.”

Amber shifted the containers, searching for the one labeled “Candles.” She opened the box and pulled out a faded yellow plastic candle with a red bulb, its base cracked, the cord frayed and taped. That dilapidated old thing, more than anything else, reminded her of her family’s home so long ago, a home that radiated with a mother’s love. The spirit of past seasons had shone from that old light purer than any other. Now, as a beacon of wonder, it brought another flow of memories that reminded Amber of why this season was so special. It would be the last she’d share with her mom.

Amber wiped a stream of tears from her cheeks as she twisted on the red bulb and set it on the windowsill. “Mom, look at the pretty candle. You had also bought that back in the 50s, and you always placed it next to the manger scene in your shop. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” her mother said, her voice growing weary.

“We certainly have a lot of memories, don’t we?” Vivid pictures of past Christmases filled Amber’s heart and soul. She reflected again on her mother’s love and all the things she had done to honor the Savior’s birth and make Christmas so special for a little girl whose spirit had been so enriched then and now. One last time.  

Amber hunched beside her mother and caressed the woman’s wrinkled hands. In silence they stared at the candle.

 “I love that candle,” Mother finally said.

“I do too,” Amber said, tears trickling down her face. “I love you, Mom.”

“And I love you.”

LIFE APPLICATION

With the obvious “war on Christmas” by the secular world every year, we Christians need to take a stand for righteousness, especially during the holiday season. Christmas is a wonderful time for us to “remember” traditions our parents have passed down or for us to establish and maintain our own customs for future generations. Proverbs 22:28 reminds us to “remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set.”  Rehearsing a tradition steeped with Godly principles during the Christmas season is the best gift any of us could receive from our family members who claim the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior. And what better gift could we bestow on those who follow behind than to do the same, thus remembering that the true meaning of Christmas is Christ’s birth.

For those who find themselves in the role of caregiver, Jesus reminds us in Jude 22: “Of some have compassion, making the difference.” Although caregiving is an extremely strenuous job, the rewards from our heavenly Father are great: “And whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward” (Matthew 10:42).

The days may grow long and weary, but the love shown will make a difference in the needy person’s life. And God will never forsake those requiring extra strength from above to face such a difficult task. Our Lord promises us with these encouraging words: “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

Run the race, fellow Christian. Pass on those precious traditions to those who come behind, and love that needy soul with a compassion that only Christ can give.

Amish Crossings: This year’s journey towards a peace filled Christm...

Amish Crossings: This year’s journey towards a peace filled Christm...: Last year I wrote about my visit with my Amish friend, Lydia, asking her about Christmas traditions. She just kept saying, “We just enjo...