One spring my husband and I traveled to the Black Forest to attend a family reunion.
Two days later, after things had settled down and relatives had dispersed, my husband took me on a romantic day trip to a cluster of tiny farming villages. We visited adorable “barns” that welcomed passersby to enter and explore. Beautifully finished wooden tables and shelves contained homemade knickknacks, soap, jam, honey, cheese, milk, and eggs… Everything was “self-serve,” employing the honor system. (Even homemade ice-cream in small freezers were available; of course we had to support such a worthy effort!)
Our final destination was Rietheim (a village in Villingen-Schwenningen). We hiked past fields of grain until we reached a forest whose border was framed by a beautiful chapel named “Judas-Thaddaeus-Kapell,” or Jude Thaddeus the Apostle Chapel. Wandering the forest’s perimeter, we visited a Celtic Burial Ground (Magdalenenberg).
We were above the surrounding hillls,and the wind was becoming “feisty.” We had to yell to be heard.
Hiking back to the chapel, we stopped to recline on a giant S-shaped, wood-ribbed “sun lounger” that had been placed there so visitors could properly take in the mountains, fields, and forest by simply spinning the lounger around.
The presence of this “Sonnenliege” seemed immensely comical in the presence of such cold and wind. Nevertheless, we pretended lying down on it was a wholly appropriate thing to do. I had just plucked a reed from the edge of a farmer’s field (just a meter from the lounger) and I held it up to better study its détails.
Behind the reed, the fields of grain swayed back and forth. I admired the clumps of burgundy-tipped berries; the snaking trail we had traveled to reach this view; the sky above; the city line that served to divide heaven from the fields: All these elements provided the perfect background for this graceful little plant.
It had been a perfect day, filled with much to appreciate and someone special who’d gifted them to me, knowing I would enjoy each one. I’d been granted the perfect souvenier, delivered to our personal “throne” at the top of the windy mountain: Reed canarygrass— hay for the cows that made the milk… that made the homemade ice-cream we’d eaten.
This beautiful view created, for me, a full circle.
One spring my husband and I traveled to the Black Forest to attend a family reunion.
Two days later, after things had settled down and relatives had dispersed, my husband took me on a romantic day trip to a cluster of tiny farming villages. We visited adorable “barns” that welcomed passersby to enter and explore. Beautifully finished wooden tables and shelves contained homemade knickknacks, soap, jam, honey, cheese, milk, and eggs… Everything was “self-serve,” employing the honor system. (Even homemade ice-cream in small freezers were available; of course we had to support such a worthy effort!)
Our final destination was Rietheim (a village in Villingen-Schwenningen). We hiked past fields of grain until we reached a forest whose border was framed by a beautiful chapel named “Judas-Thaddaeus-Kapell,” or Jude Thaddeus the Apostle Chapel. Wandering the forest’s perimeter, we visited a Celtic Burial Ground (Magdalenenberg).
We were above the surrounding hillls,and the wind was becoming “feisty.” We had to yell to be heard.
Hiking back to the chapel, we stopped to recline on a giant S-shaped, wood-ribbed “sun lounger” that had been placed there so visitors could properly take in the mountains, fields, and forest by simply spinning the lounger around.
The presence of this “Sonnenliege” seemed immensely comical in the presence of such cold and wind. Nevertheless, we pretended lying down on it was a wholly appropriate thing to do. I had just plucked a reed from the edge of a farmer’s field (just a meter from the lounger) and I held it up to better study its détails.
Behind the reed, the fields of grain swayed back and forth. I admired the clumps of burgundy-tipped berries; the snaking trail we had traveled to reach this view; the sky above; the city line that served to divide heaven from the fields: All these elements provided the perfect background for this graceful little plant.
It had been a perfect day, filled with much to appreciate and someone special who’d gifted them to me, knowing I would enjoy each one. I’d been granted the perfect souvenier, delivered to our personal “throne” at the top of the windy mountain: Reed canarygrass— hay for the cows that made the milk… that made the homemade ice-cream we’d eaten.
This beautiful view created, for me, a full circle.
