"You have to look at their necklines to tell them apart" a friendly fellow with a wide-brimmed straw hat was saying. He had a lilt in his speech that I was unfamiliar with. But his smile - well, we all smile alike.
I've recently moved back to the place of my birth. I spent a good deal of my time during those first 18 years driving around on the back roads, many of them dirt, that surrounded my Appalachian town. I was forever trying to get lost and found again. There was little else to do in this town back then, and there is little else to do here now. So, I've been driving around in the hills of Allegany county a lot again, and I'd been driving around the hills of southeastern Allegany county that day.
Amish country.
I found the countryside dotted with white clapboard houses, red barns, scattered cattle, carts and buggies pulled by horses, a curious absence of chickens, and fellows walking around in wide-brimmed straw hats. If a house had a small, white, wooden sign out front, I knew the place was open for some kind of business, so I would stop in to see and to schmooze.
This farm was in the business of selling puppies that particular day. They were six weeks old, and looking for future homes.
I had no idea I was looking for even one dog that day, but I knew the names before I even set eyes on the two that will be coming home with me next week.
Mini Australian sheepdogs. The ones I am getting look an awful lot alike, except around their necklines. One female, one male. Hazel and Hank.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's daily freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is neckline.
