I have been out. I saw: farmland of corn, orchards of apples, boys in pants and white shirts and suspenders dressing miniature ponies, a tall young Amish mechanic who removed his straw hat to slide underneath my car to make a repair. In his office, where he waved away my offer of payment, his bride smiled in a homemade dress from a photo in a frame on his desk. Other occasions: older Amish farmers wincing at my sight, one passing me nectarines from his aged hands, a deep smile. In winter, a young couple stepped from a red barn in pursuit of each other, over banks of snow, the sky above black and blue with a coming storm, and both oblivious to me.