Ohio sights and sounds: A farm country foray

For Columbus’ massive sprawl, the city fades quickly to the west. Before leaving Franklin County, Ohio farm country takes over.

In the winter, this land looks bleak. In summer, the fields are verdant and placid. The farmland ripples away. Late August leaves this country lush, from the riparian zones along its series of creeks to the dense phalanxes of corn marching to the trees or the horizon. On some farms, the stalks hide smaller buildings.

To most, this flat verdant country might be a place to speed through (the state highway patrol suggests otherwise, especially not on a holiday weekend). Cornfields are broken only by farm buildings and occasional copses. Seeing the broad fields and a full dome of sky, the beauty erupts.

I had never really explored the farm country that encompasses huge swaths of Ohio, a function of growing up along Lake Erie. From where we lived, the first major farms south marked the start of Amish country. In this stretch, I didn’t spot any horse-drawn buggies, just farmland blanketing every direction. Lines of cars queue behind farm machinery lumbering down two-lane roads; these are the only traffic snarls.

Along with the requisite suburban strip malls, the farms reach right up to London. As with most Ohio county seats, London boasts a stately courthouse in the center of town. Founded in 1811, this London has the character that only age can grant (that’s a compliment).

Downtown’s main blocks hearken to an era of better construction materials. The brick blocks look as though the buildings were erected 150 years ago. The mayor’s office and city council chambers comprise two modest buildings off Main Street. Further south the Catholic church’s steeple seems as high as the grain silos.

Faded letters pop out from the brick walls, on advertising a long-gone grocery from a time when such signs were ubiquitous as See Rock City and Mail Pouch Tobacco on the side of barns. A local clothing store and numerous small businesses operate on Main. A series of cafes and bakeries is interspersed among them. A small bar sits next to the railroad tracks. A long train could split London in two.

Among the brick of Main Street comes a flash of yellow awning and red letters. Here stands the State Theater, dating back to 1936. My old friend Rob and his wife run the one-screen movie house. Along with first-run films, they show midnight movies, host comedy nights and local film festivals. It’s a business but they have transformed it into a community gathering place.

From the outside, the State is modest. Past the lobby with its bistro tables and booths, the floor angles down into a 250-seat theater. Wallpaper from vintage movie posters enlivens the walls. I was a little too early to catch a movie. But Rob and family have done a tremendous job building something in the heart of London.

Rob took a break from the theater to show me some local treasures. Outside of Yellow Springs, the farmland takes a surprising respite. Clifton Gorge and John Bryan State Park connect, protecting the unexpectedly deep cut in the earth. Without the signs passing motorists might miss the gorge entirely. The trail drops from Ohio forest into the rocky gorge. In a few step, hikers stand below steep cliffs and hear the roar of the carving river. A giant glacial boulder split the Little Miami, whose currents cut a 100-mile path across southern Ohio to its meeting with the Ohio River east of Cincinnati.

Even a on Thursday morning the paths were full of hikers. Along the way, Rob and I caught up and talked about friends, family and the business of running a theater (I find the whole operation fascinating). Further downstream, the Little Miami comes to Yellow Springs.

Home to Antioch College, Yellow Springs is among Ohio’s most liberal places. Notable places include the Little Art Theatre, Ye Old Trail Tavern (founded in 1827) and assorted shops. Smells of incense and patchouli jumped from some doorways. Ohio’s approval of medicinal marijuana went over well here, as the new dispensaries hinted. The village is inherently friendly. Statewide bike trails run through town on former railroad right-of-way, with the train station turned into a visitor center.

Yellow Springs Brewery sits hidden in a quiet neighborhood (they open at 3, and I could not stay). A second, Trail Town, plans to open a few blocks closer in the heart of Yellow Springs. Still wanting to sample local brews, I stopped at a wine shop for a six-pack of Yellow Springs’ Captain Stardust Saison.

Rob and I stopped at the Sunrise Café for a late breakfast. After I whiffed on several breakfast items already sold out for the day, I settled on the Greek omelet. Minutes later the waitress passed and joked that they ran out of Greek omelet ingredients.

When I said goodbye to my old friend, he recommended stopping up the road at Young’s Jersey Dairy. I imagined a small ice cream shop along the highway to Springfield.

In three short miles I found out how wrong I was. Along the two-lane highway sits a massive farm and adjoining retail complex. Next year the farm will hit its 150th year. The farm’s first sales room opened in 60 years ago. Along with a full-service restaurant and gift shop, Young’s had a giant ice cream counter. They also sell many flavors of cheese curds and cheddar cheese or varying styles and ages.

For a while I loitered near the goat pens. They herd had learned that sticking close to the fence often earned them handfuls of food pellets from visitors. It was hard not to smile about the glee along the goat fence, watching little children squeal as the goats jutted their heads between the fence slats.

Inside the barn was a quieter affair. The cows sat in long rows in the cool, dark barn. Pens closer to the door housed more goats as well as a somewhat feisty pig interested in all the passersby.

The porch was mostly empty on a late-summer weekday. I sat quietly and ate a waffle cone filled with the best peanut butter-chocolate chip ice cream I ever tasted. Trucks rumbled past, goats bleated from their pens.

In that moment of contentment, there was no reason to rush departure from Ohio farm country.