Mary Swander

2 weeks ago | iowacapitaldispatch.com | Mary Swander

By this time in the evening, we thought the fire had to be out. So, when I drove over the top of the hill, we were surprised. Flames shot up from the top of the barn roof. Smoke hung in the Saturday night air, turning the darkness into a thick ashen fog that permeated the Amish homestead — the barn, house, shed, and greenhouses, all white buildings clustered tightly together, clinging to each other in a fearful embrace.

Jan 26, 2025 | iowacapitaldispatch.com | Mary Swander

In Buggy Land, cattle sometimes break through fencing and wander out onto the road. But cattle don’t fly through the air here the way they do in Ireland. They don’t make eye contact, then jump off of cliffs and come crashing down on top of the car. For one thing, we have no cliffs. We have no ocean to wedge us up against a cliff. No, I usually encounter livestock here on the road, on level, flat ground.

Dec 4, 2024 | communitynewspapergroup.com | Mary Swander

I drove down the blacktop road, my car filled with lively Amish children, nine-year-old Leah in the front seat with three little boys — 4, 5, and 6 — in the back. I had everyone strapped in, the seat belts almost strangling them, but the atmosphere in the car was celebratory, the children giggling and squiggling against their restraints. We were off to tell the grandparents and great-grandparents the good news of the day.

Dec 2, 2024 | iowacapitaldispatch.com | Mary Swander

by Mary Swander, Iowa Capital Dispatch December 2, 2024 I drove down the blacktop road, my car filled with lively Amish children, nine-year-old Leah in the front seat with three little boys — 4, 5, and 6 – in the back. I had everyone strapped in, the seat belts almost strangling them, but the atmosphere in the car was celebratory, the children giggling and squiggling against their restraints. We were off to tell the grandparents and great-grandparents the good news of the day.

Aug 7, 2024 | communitynewspapergroup.com | Mary Swander

I let down the front wall of the bluebird house, the gateway to the inside of the box, and saw four eggs – three blue and one white – in the tiny nest woven from grasses. Oh, wow! The previous day there had been nothing but the nest. And now the female bluebird had slipped in without me noticing, and quickly and efficiently, laid her eggs. We did it! Now we have bluebird eggs, I thought. I’d given up hope that this was going to happen.