Another couple accompanied us. We ordered chicken pie. Chunks of chicken, potatoes, peas and carrots smothered in a light-brown gravy, topped with a flaky crust. We feasted on bread, apple butter, mashed sweet potatoes and more. After paying the check, we went outside. Took pictures of ourselves in front of a horseless buggy decorating the grounds. That's when a real Amish buggy passed by.
We tried to capture it with the camera, but it caught us unprepared, so with jars of apple butter in tow, we got in the car. Before we could turn onto the road, someone spotted another buggy.
"Hand me the camera." Though the buggy was a city block or two away, it was in my obscured line of sight, so I took the point-and-shoot, and as discretely as I could, I snapped a photo. It didn't work, so I raised the camera, zoomed in, and took another shot.
The buggy got closer, and only then did I see the black bonnet on the driver's head.
I'd taken a picture of a woman in mourning driving down a country road in the midst of golden light.
She turned her head away as she passed the front of our waiting car, but it wasn't necessary. I'd already lowered the camera.
