I guess the reporter still lives inside of me. My nose twitches when I hear a siren, and when I smell a good story, I’m like a bloodhound on the trail of a fox.

I feel a little bit like Edward R. Murrow, a hero of mine, reporting about World War II from the roof of his hotel in London.

I do love telling stories, especially ones like this. I am learning along with everyone; it has become an exceptional experience.

I feel a little sneaky rushing in when they are eating, but they can all seem from their windows and several of them have already asked me if I can print out some of the photos so they can take me home.

Of course, good reporters are always sneaky, nobody really wants them around.

I came by during lunch break. It’s safe to take photos if nobody is there. The draft horses were there; they were brought into the shade and watered for the break. For the first time, I came up to them and rubbed their necks.

They liked it, one put his big head on my shoulder.

I was, as usual, astonished by the progress that had been made since the morning when I last stopped by.

Much of the flooring is in, and it will all be done by evening. Then the bigger work on the alls will add another 14 feet to the walls already built.

Donut Friday and the making of most baked goods were postponed; the family’s women are making and cooking food for the small army fathering around their barn.

I don’t know if the girls would like to be out on those rafters hammering; they are certainly busy preparing food and soon will be making quilts with the visiting wives and daughters – quilts are a big part of barn raisings., an important tradition.

If the girls are unhappy or feel excluded, they don’t show it. But I can’t say what’s in their minds. They seem cheerful and excited about all the visitors, and they are sure happy to thumb wrestle with me. Strong thumbs, everyone, I’m still winning, but my thumb is weakening and getting sore.

This winning streak can’t last forever, and these women are tenacious. I’m leaving shortly to drive to pick up some more incoming Amish,  I’ll get another look at the progress this afternoon when I get back. Thanks for all of your wonderful words, I’ve never received so many for one story.