Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill

I woke at a Walmart about twenty minutes from Pleasant Hill. It was one of the quietest Walmarts I’ve ever stayed at—no trains, no trucks, not even the usual parking lot noise. I’d stayed up late the night before and didn’t crawl out of bed until after eight. By the time I made coffee, packed up, and got on the road, it was already pushing 9:30.

Village Tour

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Shaker Village tour. I’d been to a similar community years ago in upstate New York, but this one was much larger and better preserved. Admission was $20, or $15 for seniors and veterans. At the visitor desk they handed me a couple of maps—one of the village itself and another showing the surrounding trails—plus a schedule of daily programs that looked like it didn’t change much month to month.

I arrived just before ten and joined the morning “Historic Village Tour.” It lasted about thirty minutes—interesting but shorter and lighter on details than I’d hoped. Still, it gave a good overview of the place. At its peak, Pleasant Hill had more than 200 buildings; today around 30 remain, each one restored and meticulously maintained. Several have been converted into guest rooms for overnight stays. You can rent one for around $125–$165 a night, with three meals available per day. It’s quiet, relaxing, and feels a world away from anything modern.

I’d planned to have lunch at the restaurant, which uses produce grown in the village gardens. The food isn’t historical reenactment fare—it’s contemporary, but with a local farm-to-table focus. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize they operated on timed seatings, and the next one wasn’t until 2:30. I wasn’t about to wait that long, so I walked back to the van and made myself a sandwich. Not quite the same, but it did the job.

War Comes to Zion

Later, I joined an outdoor presentation called War Comes to Zion. It focused on the Civil War’s impact on the Shaker community and Kentucky as a whole. The speaker did a good job explaining how slavery had been a divisive issue from the country’s beginning—something the founding generation largely sidestepped just to get the Constitution ratified. By the time of Lincoln’s election, the divide had hardened. When South Carolina seceded, others followed quickly, while Kentucky tried—briefly—to remain neutral. Both the North and South depended on goods produced here, but neutrality didn’t last long.

During the war, a public road ran directly through the village, so both Union and Confederate troops passed through. One story stood out—the visit of Confederate General John Hunt Morgan, known as the “Thunderbolt of the Confederacy.” Born in Lexington, Morgan was famous for his lightning raids through Kentucky, Indiana, and Ohio. Despite his reputation for destruction, he spared the Shaker Village. He had known members of the community before the war and respected their neutrality and self-sufficiency. The Shakers fed his men and treated the wounded from both sides, and Morgan ordered that the village not be harmed. It’s one of the rare Civil War stories that ends without violence.

Not long after, Union soldiers arrived chasing Morgan’s troops. The Shakers treated them the same way—feeding them and offering shelter. The difference was that the Union soldiers stayed longer and consumed much of the village’s stored food, but the Shakers didn’t complain. Their guiding principle was peace and equality, not politics. They believed kindness mattered more than allegiance, and their reputation as a neutral refuge endured long after the war.

The presentation ended with a reminder that Kentucky’s story didn’t end when the fighting did. The state never seceded but remained divided, and after the war, many former Confederates regained control of politics and public memory. The “Lost Cause” version of history took hold here too, softening the Confederacy’s image and ignoring the central issue of slavery. For decades, Kentucky lived in a kind of in-between state—Union by fact, Southern by culture.

Shaker Meeting House

From there I went into the Meeting House. Inside, displays explain the Shakers’ beliefs and daily life. Officially called the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, the Shakers broke away from mainstream Christianity in the 1700s. They saw God as both male and female and believed that Christ’s spirit had returned through Mother Ann Lee, who led her followers from England to America in the 1770s. Their nickname came from their worship style—early services were so full of singing, stomping, clapping, and trembling that outsiders called them “Shaking Quakers.”

At Pleasant Hill, worship was an all-body experience. Men and women sat separately but moved together in choreographed dances that represented purity and unity. The energy must have been something to witness—music, motion, and devotion all rolled into one. Over time, the services became more orderly but still kept that physical connection to faith.

Their beliefs shaped how they lived. They practiced celibacy, shared property, and emphasized equality between men and women long before most of the world even considered it. Work was worship, and simplicity was a virtue. Everything they built or made had a clean, balanced beauty that reflected that idea of harmony. It’s easy to see why their furniture and craftsmanship are still admired today.

I’ve always admired the clean geometry and quiet confidence of Frank Lloyd Wright’s designs, and I see a similar spirit in Shaker architecture and furniture. Both share that belief that form should follow function—that beauty comes naturally when something is well made and honestly built. The Shakers stripped away ornament for simplicity’s sake, creating furniture and buildings that were practical yet graceful. Wright did the same in his own way, blending structure and purpose into a unified whole. Walking through Pleasant Hill, I couldn’t help noticing how the craftsmanship still speaks for itself: the symmetry of the meeting house, the hand-planed doors, the way light falls across bare wood. There’s a timeless quality to it all, like both the Shakers and Wright were after the same idea—finding harmony between design, work, and daily life.

Fulling Mill Falls Hike

By late afternoon, I wanted to stretch my legs and see something outside the village, so I drove over to the trailhead for Fulling Mill Falls. Google Maps actually got me to the right place, though the signage didn’t help much—no “You Are Here” marker, just a general map with dots for mills and one waterfall icon. I wasn’t even sure which trail started where. I spotted someone sitting in a nearby field and walked over to ask. Turned out to be a local artist named Bill Fletcher, who kindly gave me directions.

The hike itself was easy, and the falls were small but photogenic. I got a few shots, then circled back to thank him. We ended up talking for a while about travel, painting, and the quiet beauty of Kentucky’s landscapes. He told me he makes his living as an artist, painting realistic scenes of streams and woods in soft light. I later looked up his work—beautiful stuff. His paintings capture the same calm I felt walking through the Shaker grounds earlier that day.

I tried catching the sunset afterward. It was bright and full of color but somehow didn’t stand out. Maybe I’d already seen enough calm beauty for one day.

That night, I drove to a Walmart in Nicholasville. A sign at the entrance said No Overnight Parking, though every travel app I use listed it as allowed. I went inside and checked at the customer service desk. They told me it was fine to stay and even pointed out where to park. I took them up on it. After a long, thoughtful day, I was ready for quiet again—and this one turned out to be just as peaceful as the last.