You’re driving through the rolling hills of Pontotoc County, maybe headed toward Tupelo for a bite to eat, when the scenery shifts. It’s subtle at first. The power lines seem to stop. The road noise changes from the hum of tires on asphalt to the rhythmic clop-clop of hooves. Suddenly, you see it: a black buggy, stark against the green Mississippi backdrop, driven by a man in a wide-brimmed straw hat.
It feels like a glitch in the matrix. People usually associate the Amish with the snowy fields of Pennsylvania or the flat farmlands of Ohio. But right here in the Deep South, there is a thriving, albeit tiny, Amish community in Mississippi.
Most people don't even know they exist. If they do, they usually get the details wrong. This isn't a tourist trap or a historical reenactment. It is a living, working settlement that has carved out a space in a climate that—honestly—is pretty brutal for people who don't use air conditioning.
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The Randolph Settlement: Life in the Heat
The heart of this community is located near the small town of Randolph. It’s the only one of its kind in the state. Founded back in 1995, the original families moved down from Ethridge, Tennessee. Why did they come to Mississippi? It’s usually about two things: land and peace.
They are part of the Swartzentruber group. If you know your Amish history, you know that name means something specific. They are the "plainest of the plain." While some Amish groups might allow a little bit of electricity in the barn or use tractors with rubber tires, the Swartzentrubers say no to almost everything.
- No indoor plumbing.
- No gravel on the driveways (usually).
- No "Slow Moving Vehicle" triangles on the back of buggies.
That last one has actually caused some friction with local law enforcement over the years due to safety concerns on Mississippi’s winding country roads. They prefer reflective tape instead. It’s a matter of religious conviction—not just being difficult. They believe the bright orange triangles are too "worldly."
Why the Deep South is a Tough Sell
Mississippi’s climate is the big elephant in the room. Most Amish settlements are clustered in the North because their lifestyle is built for it. Think about it. You’re wearing heavy denim or wool-blend trousers, long-sleeved shirts, and suspenders. Now, imagine doing manual labor in 98-degree heat with 90% humidity.
It’s rough.
The Randolph community stays small for this reason. According to researchers at the Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies, the population in Mississippi hovers around 165 to 170 people across just two church districts. That’s a drop in the bucket compared to the 90,000+ Amish in Pennsylvania, but for Pontotoc County, it's a significant cultural pillar.
Historically, the Amish tried settling in Mississippi before. Back in the late 1890s, there was a group in Monroe County. It didn't last. Between the "unhealthy climate" (likely malaria and heat) and the complexities of the local sharecropping system, the last family packed up and left by 1907. The current group has been here nearly 30 years now, so it looks like they’ve finally figured out how to handle the Mississippi sun.
What They Actually Do for a Living
If you visit, don't expect a gift shop with a neon sign. This is a community of cottage industries. They make things that last.
Leatherwork and Saddlery
One of the most popular stops in the Randolph area is the leather shop. You’ll find handmade belts, bridles, and horse collars. The quality is honestly insane. It’s the kind of stuff you buy once and keep for forty years.
The Furniture Boom
A few families specialize in cedar furniture. If you’ve ever seen a heavy, hand-carved cedar chest or a porch swing that looks like it could survive a hurricane, it probably came from a shop on Salmon Road. They don't use power tools—or at least, not the kind plugged into a wall. Many use air-powered (pneumatic) tools run by a diesel compressor hidden away in a shed.
Produce and Plants
In the spring, the greenhouses are the place to be. They sell hanging baskets and vegetable starts. Later in the summer, you’ll see signs for "Mud Rugs" or fresh produce. They don't have a centralized market, so you basically just drive the backroads and look for the hand-painted signs at the end of the driveways.
Navigating the Culture Gap
The relationship between the Amish and the "English" (that’s what they call us) in Mississippi is generally pretty good. People in Pontotoc respect the hard work. But there are rules to the road if you’re planning a visit.
- Sunday is a No-Go. Don't show up on a Sunday expecting to buy a quilt. That’s their day of worship and rest. The signs will stay turned around, and the gates will be closed.
- No Photos. This is the big one. They believe photographs are "graven images." It’s a humility thing. Snapping a selfie with an Amish farmer is a huge sign of disrespect. Just leave the phone in your pocket.
- Bring Cash. They don't do Venmo. They don't do Square. If you want that handmade basket, you better have five-dollar bills ready.
It’s also worth mentioning that they aren't "frozen in time." That’s a myth. They are making a conscious choice to live this way. They know what a smartphone is. They just don't want one. There’s a difference between being ignorant of technology and being disciplined enough to reject it.
The Future of Mississippi's Amish
Will the community grow? Probably not by much. The Swartzentruber lifestyle is so strict that it doesn't attract many "outsiders," and even other Amish groups find their rules a bit intense. But the families that are there are settled. They have their own one-room schoolhouses where kids learn the basics—reading, writing, and math—before finishing their formal education at the eighth grade to work on the farm.
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They provide a weirdly beautiful contrast to the modern South. In a world of TikTok and 24-hour news cycles, there is something grounding about seeing a man plow a field with a team of horses. It reminds you that the "old ways" aren't actually gone; they’re just being kept alive by a few dozen families on the outskirts of Pontotoc.
Actionable Insights for Visiting:
- Location: Target Salmon Road and Hwy 341 in Pontotoc County.
- Timing: Visit on a Saturday morning for the best selection of baked goods and produce.
- Etiquette: Drive slowly. Buggies don't have brakes like your Ford F-150 does. Give them plenty of room when passing, and never honk your horn—it spooks the horses.
- Supplies: Bring a cooler if you're buying perishables like eggs or seasonal veggies, as the Mississippi heat will wilt them before you get back to Tupelo or Oxford.
The Amish community in Mississippi is a small but resilient part of the state's cultural quilt. They aren't looking for fame or a "deep dive" into their lives—they just want to be left alone to farm their land and raise their kids. If you go, go as a respectful neighbor, not a tourist at a zoo. You might just walk away with the best jar of pickles you’ve ever tasted.