It felt like 1824, not 2024.

"I always feel like I wish I had lived 100 years ago."

Letty, Judy and Jane have known each other for seven years now, but it feels like a lifetime, the three bonded in ways only the heart understands.

They first met at an auction in Missouri. Letty? Didn't think twice. As soon as she saw Jane and Judy – half-sisters, raised together since birth – she knew.

"I fell in love," Letty said.

Then, hesitation. Judy and Jane were 19 at the time; Belgian horses rarely live much older than that.

Letty Smith, 54, has been a "horse-girl" her whole life. She and husband Curtis own Circle S Farm in Rising Fawn, Georgia. For her, no farm – correction: no life – is complete without horses.

So, in 2017, she went to Missouri to buy a pair.

At the auction, she'd given her friend the bidding paddle, afraid she'd outbid what her checkbook could handle. Younger horses sold fast and first; it wasn't until the end of the auction when Jane and Judy went up for sale.

"When they came into the ring and I realized they were within reach, I jabbed our friend in the ribs and said, 'Bid higher. Quick!'"

Sold.

"I was over the moon," Letty said, "when I realized they were actually mine."

Now, seven years later, one thing is abundantly clear:

Letty has become their best friend on earth.

Raised and trained by Mennonite farmers, Jane and Judy work the Circle S land as draft horses.

"We harness them up a couple of times a week," Letty said. "Had them for seven years. I don't know what that adds up to."

It adds up to one of the most beautiful scenes we've witnessed.

"Their love is what connects this whole thing together," said Jennifer Blair, good friend and Circle S partner.

"The horses love each other. Letty loves the horses."

"And they love her back."

Circle S Farm stretches for 1000 acres over rolling mountaintop. It has a market garden, beef cattle, a few dozen laying hens and a trio of rollicking, hardworking dogs.

Letty and Curtis keep one foot in the past; they're renovating a cabin with logs a century old and a front porch "as long as a bowling alley." His grandparents milked cows and sold butter to folks who came by on the railroad. He'd work the day shift, come home and farm in the evening; she'd work nights to farm in the day. Letty still has her old butter churn.

They also practice a very old technique: farming with draft horses.

"We still till with a tractor," Letty said. "That is a hard job for horses. But then we come back and lay off the rows with them and cultivate between the plants with them."

On a calm morning in May, Letty – in snap-button plaid, work cap and boots – harnesses Jane and Judy, each 2,000 pounds.

She whispers and gently guides the horses, with worn leather harness over their massive necks, as they back onto a Pioneer cultivator, the same sort of machine used a century ago, before highways and high speed, in a time of oil lanterns and telegraphs, darkrooms and Smith Coronas.

It felt like 1824, not 2024.

"I always feel like I wish I had lived 100 years ago," Letty said.

Just through the fence gate: 300' rows of cabbage, butter lettuce, red lettuce, kale. The Pioneer's wheels began to creak and turn; Letty, feet on the pedals and hands around the reins, spoke to the sisters, who, in turn, listened to their best friend.

"All right, girls," she said.

Once, hilling potatoes, they got going too fast; the cultivator lifted up "like a circus ride."

"My feet are on the pedals," she said, "but I can't look down. I have to look up. They’re attached to something and you’re on it. If something happens, there will be a wreck."

Once, Judy's blinders fell off.

"She was terrified," said Letty. "Being able to see what was behind her, following her, being able to see what she hadn't seen all these years."

Don't you know the feeling? Look back over your shoulder. Where are all the old-time ways? The traditions, lore and farm knowledge?

That morning at Circle S, it was as if we were seeing back into the past: the eternal beauty of horse-and-human-powered work. This is not to romanticize things, but it is to acknowledge all that has been lost.

All that was once, but no longer is.

Judy, Jane and Letty clopped and rolled through the garden, the cultivator's metal tongues tearing out any competing weeds to the side of the vegetables. They'd make the big wide turn, come back around and start again, dogs following.

It was a soundtrack out of the 19th century: the noise of bridles, hooves through the Georgia soil, creaking leather, metal wheels groaning and straining, as heavens of passed-beyond farmers, like some John Henry moment, proudly looking down: look, someone's still doing it like we did ...

Six rows of Georgia soil, all cultivated in less than 15 minutes.

Blair leans over: "See how quickly they did this? It would take me hours."

Nearby, Letty strokes Judy and Jane.

"Good girl," Letty says, "good girl."

Letty grew up in Charlotte, NC, a city girl whose heart lay in the country.

"I was born loving horses," she said. "Horse crazy."

In Charlotte, she worked stables, which gave her access, then, after college, took a horse-packing job in Wyoming.

"The Wind River Range," she said. "I was like a kid in candy store."

This was three decades ago.

Around the same time, Judy and Jane were born to Mennonite farmers in Missouri.

"They require you to bring your best self. Dogs love you no matter what. But horses? They give back to you what you give them," Letty said.

Every so often, Letty and friends will play music together. They've even formed a band: the Rising Fawn Social Club.

Bruz Clark, one of the members, whose grandfather worked Belgian draft horses, wrote a song about Letty, Jane and Judy called I Sing Behind the Plow:

Sun on the horizon, heading for the barn

Horses nicker when I call, it’s work day on the farm

Leather creaks while hitching up, where Jane and Judy stand

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than farming on the land.

Blair and her husband live close by; she's known Letty from Main St. Farmers' Market.

Blair began stopping by Circle S, then volunteering, then working. Today, she's, well, a combination of things.

"My anchor. Employee of the century," Letty begins. "She’s more like family than anything."

"I have worked on lots of farms, volunteered on farms, toured on farms, but this is my favorite. I’ve never been anywhere like this," Blair said. "My husband and I come here on our off days."

They come for many reasons – the sunsets, the creeks, sitting on the wide porch – but also for Letty, Jane and Judy.

"I love the sisterhood," she said. They will follow her around like a mama hen and I think that’s beautiful."

"But I also come for Letty. I don't know if I've ever met anyone I admire more."

Circle S sells each Wednesday at Main St. Farmers' Market and offers a seasonal Community-Supported Agriculture program that feeds 20 families.

Their farm is "non-certified organic" with pastures being slowly converted to perennial grassland.

They also sell Temple Top dog treats, named after their dog Temple, who was named after Dr. Temple Grandin. Each box contains the digital image of Blair's dog Isabel.

"The love of her life," said Letty. "Jennifer literally made a digital image out of her precious friends footprint and sends it out into the world with every box."

Blair had this idea: instead of tossing it all onto the compost pile, let's turn all the extra bruised or unsightly produce into dog treats.

"We process with beef organs, meat and tongue," she said. "We make dehydrated dog treats out of it."

Back at the barn, Letty unharnesses Jane and Judy before turning them out to pasture.

"Jane was really lame this winter," she said. "She's got arthritis. But we hitched them and she seems to be doing better. She seems happy, so I'll keep hitching them until ... ," she said, pausing.

The moment is soft. And honest. We've all done the quiet math: both horses several years past their life expectancy.

"I had an idyllic view of farming. But there are parts that are heartbreaking," said Letty. "You're around 100 or 200 animals that don't live as long as you."

Jane and Judy turn from their best friend and race into the nearby fields.

When Letty and Curtis were naming their farm, they chose Circle S. "S" for their old dog named Sadie.

And the circle?

"The symbol of no end," she said, "and no beginning."

Like three friends, bonded in ways only the heart understands.

No beginning, no end.

All photography by Sarah Unger (sarah@foodasaverb.com)

All design by Alex DeHart

All words by David Cook (david@foodasaverb.com)

Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in sponsorship or advertising opportunities? Email us: david@foodasaverb.com and sarah@foodasaverb.com

This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.