On a Saturday morning, Westcliff is closed for business and the bluegrass festival doesn’t open till ten. There aren’t many people out and about.

The local grocery store isn’t open till nine but you can get cash from the bank ATM if you are short.The only gas station is on the highway back to Walsenburg, a few miles south of town. There are several real estate offices with flyers posted in their windows for lookers, and the restaurant at the bowling alley is still asleep with bowling balls cuddled up in their chutes.

The Sugar and Spice Bakery is one of the few places open this early and seven patrons are already lined up ahead of me.

The two young women running the shop wear plain long skirts with plain bonnets on their head, their hair bundled up under the bonnet. They are Mennonites, who, along with Amish,have settled in this area in the last few years. I saw several girls, dressed  exactly like this, working at the bowling alley cafe yesterday and admired their work ethic and modesty when serving overweight middle aged women in shorts and tattoos, ordering chicken fried steak and mashed potato dinners in the restaurant.

I feel like I’m back in the 1950’s again.

In a changing world, the Mennonites and Amish ,in Westcliff ,might be the only ones  in our country saying “no” to progress and the latest party line newspaper propaganda.

While this planet spins, those of us waiting in line know you can’t beat good muffins, scones ,and apple pie for breakfast.

Even in our complicated world, eating hand made muffins, sitting in chairs that have no screws, riding in wagons pulled by carts, and listening to bluegrass music is not without charm.

We can buy our food out of machines but eating that way just doesn’t have the same spirit that comes from eating meals made and served by human hands.


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