Disembuggied and Disambiguated

Bergeron Nursery in frigid winters Minnesota has for three generations taken great pride in becoming successful in an area of the country that can make living in your refrigerator seem like a beach. Perhaps its rural ethics have helped keep its business solvent. Or because since the 1940s all employees are fed homemade meals with fresh bread, cake, pie, and meat and potatoes, and all customers are offered homemade donuts.

Here’s a subtle country-styled vignette to warm your heart.

Amish buggy in Minnesota landscape

Our patch of fall-bearing Caroline raspberries is bearing far too many berries for Dad to freeze, so we invited our new Amish neighbors over to pick.

After the two young women and three little tykes disembuggied with their pails, I pointed out the patch and mentioned that they could take some tomatoes, too.

“We have tomatoes,” the young woman said, thoughtfully. “Do you have any watermelon?”

“Uh, no,” I stammered. “We did but we’ve picked them all.”

From her seemingly empty pail she procured a small watermelon and held it out for me with a smile. “Would you like one?”