A Christmas Carol 2016, Epilogue

 
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This year will be the eightieth first grade performance

of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”.

In 2001

I spray painted pennies gold

and put them in Grandma Maud’s tin box

where they made a wonderful metallic sound when shaken.

A white ostrich plume

picked up in the streets of Nassau

during the Junkanoo celebration

became Bob Cratchit’s quill pen.

The Ghost of Christmas Present

started with a Dollar Store elf hat

but now has a Father Christmas suit

with wreath hat,

fur-collared robe,

and long white beard.

The Ghost of Christmas Past 

now has a velvet medieval gown

and sequined wand.

Jacob Marley now has real chains.

Everybody gets some kind of costume

I have an IKEA bag filled with vests for the boys

and skirts of all sizes for the girls.

Casting is always interesting.

After telling the story and reading through the script

I have kids sign up for LOTS of different parts

so that they almost always get a part they were interested in.

Jacob Marley needs to be uninhibited

and say “Oooooooooooo!” really well.

Tiny Tim often goes to the smallest child

but we have had larger Tiny Tims 

because they were great limpers.

Scrooge needs to be able to remember lines and speak clearly.

One year Scrooge was the shyest girl in the class

but I knew she could handle the part

because one day during silent reading

she surprised the class--

and herself--

by shouting  “LET ME DRIVE THE BUS!!!!”

She was perfect.

Each year there are moments never-to-be-forgotten:

The Ghost of Christmas Present entering with a handspring.

The Ghost of Christmas Future blindly tripping on his long robe.

Scrooge falling off a large table while enthusiastically dancing—

the superintendent was present for that one--

and skirts falling off during Mr Fezziwig’s Christmas dance.

The Ghost of Christmas Past

ad-libbing, “Ebenezer! Think about what you DONE!”

This year I have my smallest class ever

so some kids have multiple parts;

the charity worker is also Mr. Fezziwig and a villager.

(He read his lines the first day in a British accent

but shyness has kicked in

and he hasn’t done it again.)

Bob Cratchit doesn’t know his lines yet,

but has a huge nice-guy smile.

Amy is Tiny Tim

who limps with the aid of a pebble in her shoe.

Joel may be the best Scrooge ever—

he thinks about EVERY LINE

and says it with such expression,

from “Bah! Humbug!”

to “Will the child live?”

to “Thank you Spirits! I will honor Christmas in my heart!”

As we get ready for our December performances

I think about the Scrooges over the years--

boys and girls,

black and white and multiracial--

and I think about how there are no boundaries

on who is cruel

or who is beyond redemption.

We thank God this Christmas season

for the incarnation,

for the baby

who brought the gifts of grace

and mercy

and the ever-present possibility of change.

Tiny Tim's self portrait

Epilogue:

“How did it go?” you ask.

They sang. Loudly.

Apparently Marley’s speech impediment

is worse than I realized

as few people could understand what he actually said,

but his oooooohs and chain-shaking skills

still carried the redemption story along.

The Ghost of Christmas Past got rave reviews

as she delivered her lines clearly 

with a huge smile

in her lovely velvet dress,

her hair poofing all around her sparkly tinsel headpiece.

Scrooge was wonderful, as predicted,

but during the afternoon performance

he had difficulty getting out of his bed

sending the Ghost of Christmas Present into a nervous giggle fit.

(Remember those?

I think they lessen near the end of adolescence.)

The Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t talk

and didn’t trip,

so that was an easy one.

I saw no fingers in noses,

another reason to be thankful.

There were a few things I would have changed;

hindsight is like that...

“It was the best of times.

It was the worst of times.”

Another Dickens quote*

that is true for plays,

for teaching,

for many situations in 2016

and probably 2017 as well.

In 2017,

may the best of times

be frequent

and appreciated

and the worst of times be redeemed

as you feel the breath of God

on your life.

God, bless us, every one!

From our chimney to yours, happy Christmas!

*The opening paragraph of A Tale of Two Cities:

“It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times,

it was the age of wisdom,

it was the age of foolishness,

it was the epoch of belief,

it was the epoch of incredulity,

it was the season of light,

it was the season of darkness,

it was the spring of hope,

it was the winter of despair.”

 

August Thoughts

It's an August Sunday afternoon, hot.
Seeds have brought finches to raid the coneflowers.
The thunder is rumbling on all sides of the mountain
but the rain is holding off.
Soon I may have to rescue my school bag sitting on the driveway
but I'm saving that for an adventurous dash.
School begins Tuesday.
I am still teaching first grade at Penfield,
a tiny school with a forested hill behind it,
a creek across the road,
and an occasional elk on the ballfield.
"Are you ready for school?" people ask.
Yes.
After thirty-some years, I still love to teach.
This year, the toughest thing
may be saying the final line of the pledge of allegiance--
"...with liberty and justice for all."
My wise uncle suggested I say the words as a prayer instead.
My mind will soon be filled with memorizing names
and remembering to bring milkweed for the monarch caterpillars
and studying yet another new math curriculum.
I will unload ten thoughts from August
before they get crowded out.


10.  Lightning
Recently a lightning bolt struck a large oak
near where Paul and Kate were married ten
(ten!)
years ago.
There is now a large crack from a treetop  branch to the ground.
We found oak splinters sixty feet away on our sidewalk.
Lightning strikes are scary cool.

9. Fenwick Beach
Here is our beach advice:
Build a giant sand castle in front of you at the beach
and no one will move in and block your view.
Especially if you build steps down to the surf
and number them.
Then you can also watch the tide come in mathematically.
If you want passersby to stop,
make bridges
and deep doors
and windows that cast shadows
and embellish the castle with beach finds
like feathers
and shells
and seagrass roots.
By the way,
we start our mornings with coffee and donuts
instead of yoga.
And those toned and tanned lifeguards?
They have no idea that someday they may have
a sixty-year-old coffee-and-donut body.

The view we remember

The striped umbrella is ours. We are NOT in the picture

8. Clothing
The perfect all-weather summer wardrobe is a scrub top,
nylon swim trunks,
and Crocs.


7. Rocks
All those rocks
that Denny helped me drag home
from Lake Ontario over the years
are now even more fascinating--
I've just watched Youtube rock stacking videos.
Once you understand the physics,
rock stacking can be addictive.

Fun near the mailbox

Rocks are the new Legos

6.  Cat Changes
Getting rid of a cat can be
both a happy
and sad occasion.
Chai the Indoor Siamese Cat
moved to Mechanicsburg to be Luke's companion.
No more being herded to the food dish!
No more moving the gate at the top of the stairs
each time we go up or down!
We no longer need litter box access--
the basement door can remain closed!
We can travel without finding a cat-sitter!
But we miss the adoration
(Siamese are more like dogs),
the nose bumps,
and making Chai groove when fast music comes on,
Twoey the Outdoor Heinz Cat is filling the gap.

Chai the Cat on his leash in the shade under the rock wagon

Twoey the Cat in the shade of the jeep roof on the hay wagon

 
5. Safety
It's important to finish jobs involving scaffolding before school starts
so that, if you fall,
your wife can call 911.
Sitting around waiting to call 911 is a tough job,
but somebody's got to do it.
And so the cabin chimney is done,
complete with a carabiner at the top
for anyone interested in climbing up to ring the bell on the eave.

Almost finished!

Waiting to call 911 is a tough job

4. The Swimming Hole
Hot afternoons call us to the swimming hole.
En route, we pluck wild blackberries without leaving the jeep.
They are hard little nuggets this year from lack of rain
but still very tasty.
I explore while Den bathes.
Water boatmen,
the ADHD insects of the aquatic world,
prefer the still water found inside rock rings.
Soon some will be living in cups
in the center of first grade tables.
Science is fun.

Hard. Seedy. Delicious.

Look closely and you'll see boatmen's ripples

 

3. Diets
Most of you know that I prefer short hair.
but as motivation to lose ten pounds--
I didn't snore ten pounds ago--
I'm letting my hair grow until the weight comes off.
One friend told me I may die looking like Rapunzel.


2. Police Encounters
I was followed by a city policeman recently
and when I stopped,
he informed me that it was illegal
to drive jeeps with the doors off
but he wouldn't ticket me this time.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou for not giving me a ticket!" I said,
and drove off, happy.
For about a mile.
Then the Libertarian in me got irate.
WHY should some law tell me I need doors?
Bicyclists don't have doors!
Motorcyclists don't have doors!
Doorless? Roofless?
That's summmmmmmmmmer!
I walked into the house complaining to Den,
who called the PA State Police.
It turns our we DON'T need doors.
If I get ticketed, I'm fighting it.

It's SUMMER!

1. August Olympics
While watching the O's,
we thought of Chariots of Fire,
the movie about runner/missionary Eric Liddell
who competed in the 1924 Olympics.
"I believe God made me for a purpose, 
but he also made me fast.
And when I run, I feel His pleasure."
We are not Olympians,
but God knew that when he made us.
"I believe God made me for a purpose,
but he also made me... enthusiastic?
And when I...
Build a castle?
Play with rocks?
Construct a chimney?
Taste warm blackberries?
Sing?
Write?
Dance?
Tend bees?
Bake?
Knit?
Paint?
Change a diaper?
Feed a cat?
Teach?
... I feel His pleasure."

As August fades,
we hope you use what is truly you
to feel God's pleasure. 

Ontario's Bruce Peninsula By the Numbers

We recently bought a new-to-us RV
and last week
we took it on a shake-down cruise
to Ontario's Bruce Peninsula.
The Bruce is a maritimey place
similar to the New England shore;
there are many sea gulls
and sea captains
but less people
and the water is fresh.
We were introduced to the Bruce,
a botanical wonderland similar to Wisconsin's Door Peninsula,
decades ago
by Houghton College professors
Arnold and Betty Cook.

One of these men is not a sea captain

880 miles there and back again

We towed a jeep that carried bicycles,
an arrangement that precludes backing up.
We only made that mistake once...
Between gallons
and liters and
Canadian exchange rates
in addition to my I-don't-want-to-know-how-much-it-costs frugality,
we may never figure out the RV's gas mileage.

Our jeep carried bikes

24 snakes on Flowerpot Island

It had been over thirty years
since we last walked the trails of Flowerpot,
named for geologic formations on the shoreline.
We found leaves and seedpods of spring orchids,
took a brief swim at a secluded beach,
and counted twenty-four snakes,
fourteen of them at one campsite--
Indiana Jones would never camp there.
The lighthouse bulletin board
had pushpins with countless snake skins;
I mentally filed that idea away
for my classroom science center
and wished we had kept
all the snake skins we had found
over the years.

One of the flowerpots on Flowerpot Island

 

Two of the fourteen ribbon snakes visible from my rock at campsite #3

At 10 AM
we got the last parking space to visit the grotto
where crazy against-the-rules cliff jumpers
plunge into the frigid waters of the Georgian Bay.
We sat in relative safety on the rocks
amused by a seagull trying to devour an enormous crayfish.

This seagull gagged on the giant crayfish

Den often serves as voluntary photographer for strangers' non-selfies

9 scoops of ice cream
were purchased on our sunset trips to Tobermory,
the town at the northern tip of the peninsula.
The rail seats of Crow's Nest Pub look down on Little Tub Harbor
and the town of Tobermory.
Each night, we talked with whomever was beside us
about menu suggestions
(Poutine! Fries and cheese curds covered with brown gravy!)
or the wardrobe choices of the passers-by below us.
We clapped when enormous trucks successfully parked in tiny spaces,
waved to bicyclists,
and took bets on which color vehicle would come by next.

The Crow's Nest Pub. Our traditional seat was beside the post

The view of Little Tub Harbor from the Crow's Nest

8+ interesting species of plants re-emerged from memories
and the pages of old botanical journals.
Pitcher plants.
Spatulate-leaved sundews.
Rose pogonias.
Butterworts.
Yellow ladies slippers.
Dwarf irises.
Indian paintbrush.
Maidenhair spleenworts...

Insectivorous pitcher plant in flower on left,
Indian paintbrush on right
growing in the Dorcas Bay fen

7 days at our home base, Tobermory

We ventured out each day to explore--
Cabot Head Lighthouse
Lion's Head
Tobermory History Museum
Tom Thomson Art Museum
Halfway Log Dump beach
Big Tub Harbor lighthouse
Fathom Five National Park viewing tower

Cormorants on the swimming raft at Lion's Head

Biking at Lion's Head

Tom Thomson, one of Den's favorite artists,  painted Canadian wilderness pictures

Lighthouse at Big Tub Harbor, the deepest natural harbor in the Great Lakes

View from Fathom Five tower

6 essential parts to an inuksuk:
Two legs
Hip rock
Stomach rock(s)
Shoulder/arm rock
Head

A true inuksuk,
one of the symbols of Canada,
always has a purpose--
to mark a food cache,
to help herd caribou,
to mark a trail.
We met a Tobermory artist,
Kent,
who had built an inuksuk that sited Mount Sinai!
We brought home rocks
for an inuksuk
in our yard
that now marks the site
of Paul and Kate's wedding.

Properly built inuksuk marks the 2006 wedding site

5 dollars at the Owen Sound Police Department parking lot
will get you a hamburger,
chips,
pop,
two Hershey kisses,
and interesting conversation with the locals.
All proceeds benefit local charities.
We were impressed with their ongoing community outreach;
the Dallas police shooting had happened only hours before.



4 shipwrecks on a 4 hour snorkel tour

Because of shallow water over the Niagara Escarpment
and the fierce Great Lakes storms
and the types of boats used,
there were SO many shipwrecks
that Canada created Fathom Five National Park.
I unsuccessfully concentrated
on keeping water out of my mask and snorkel
but managed to see three out of four ships;
Den would see some interesting mechanism,
swim back to talk to the captain about its function,
then jump in again.
We were both sore the next day
but it was Totally Worth It.

Ready to snorkel the frigid waters

View of the Sweepstakes shipwreck

3 verses of Muhlenberg County sung by Sue

At the All You Can Eat Fish and Chips restaurant,
piratey servers occasionally belted out parts of sea chanteys.
When the background music became "Muhlenberg County",
I enthusiastically sang along
(there weren't many customers)
and earned a high five
from a pirate
with a styrofoam parrot on his shoulder.
No alcohol was involved.

"Daddy, won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County,
down by the Green River where Paradise lay..."

2 sandhill cranes added to Denny's life list
and 2 forgotten compasses

When returning through customs,
we were asked
"Have you been to the doctor recently?"
"No sir."
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes sir."
"We have a gamma alert on a motorhome..."
We were pulled over
and inspected by three officers
looking for a source of radiation.
"Do you have a fish finder?
A compass?"
"No sir."
Turns out we had TWO compasses
in the jeep's console,
forgotten.
The officer called Washington
and removed us from the Watch List.
We would not be the source of a dirty bomb.
Our border patrol is impressive.

Sandhill cranes in the Dorcas Bay fen

Compasses, sources of infinitesimal radiation

1 night of Northern Lights
We were sitting at our campfire with neighbors
when I looked up
and recognized a streak of green smearing through the stars.
Our friends had never seen northern lights before
and we stood in awe until they faded.
What a gift!

...and 1 snakeskin under the front door upon arriving home.
Be careful what you wish for...

Our "welcome home" present has started our snakeskin collection

Zero regrets.

When speaking seagullese, "Awwwwk" can mean many things:
"Come here and I'll give you peanuts"
or "What happened to your leg?"
or, in this case, "Happy trails!"

To Crawl Where Skunks Have Trod

The phone rings.
Den is calling from the garage.
"Hey Sue, the baby skunks are in the orchard."
I put a coat over my pajamas and slip on a pair of crocs.
Two nights earlier,
we spotted a mama skunk
and her five babies en route to the barn
and watched from a distance.
Mother skunks are nothing to tangle with.
I know this because
our boys were raised with the story
of Denny and the Skunks.
 
In the mid-sixties,
Den and his Mill Road neighbor,
Cheryl Lumadue,
went out one night to catch baby skunks for pets.
They had heard 
that if you pick up a baby skunk by its tail,
it won't spray,
and they found it to be true.
Oh wondrous night!
Cheryl caught one and put it in the cage, then Denny.
In the dim light,
Den caught another glimpse of black and white,
but it was Cheryl's turn.
"Oh pleasepleaseplease Cheryl! Let me get this one!"
Cheryl stood back as Den made the grab,
but it wasn't a baby.
It was the mom
who sprayed Denny full in the face.
Den stumbled home gagging
and was showering in the basement
when the stench woke his parents,
two stories up.
They doused him with tomato juice
and burned his clothes
and endured the house odor.
The next day,
Den and Cheryl showed off their new pets
but when they learned that it cost $40 to have a skunk de-scented--
it won't stay a sprayless baby forever--
they let the baby skunks go.


Tonight in my orchard there were baby skunks.
Alone!
Without their mom to stink things up!
Two were snuffling around under the oak, bouncing like baby kittens.
Three more were beside the beehive,
two black and white
and one white and black.
The white and black one was a feisty little thing.
She would bounce toward me,
then hop back,
scratching the ground.
Her tail looked like a bottle brush as she stood on her front legs.
I laughed.
I talked to her.
I reallyreallyreally wanted to pick her up
or at least pet her
but Den advised against it;
these babies were slightly older than the Skunks Of His Past.
Plus, the last time I tried to pet a wild animal,
a mouse,
it bit me
and I had to get my tetanus shot updated.
I decided to do the sensible, scientific thing:
observe.

I lay in the field at skunk level
and watched her hop and scuff,
her tiny sprayer puckering and unpuckering.
When the skunklet backed off,
I wiggled a bit closer.

I watched until dark,
then went to find Den.
"You stink," he said.
How can I stink?
Baby skunks don't spray...
but they do dribble, apparently,
and I had crawled through it.

I left coat and PJs and crocs on the deck
and showered outside,
LOTS of soap,
rubbing any exposed skin with a pumice stone.
Ouch.
When I went in the house,
I was still odiferous.
My friend the search engine
advised hydrogen peroxide
and baking soda
and dishwashing soap
so I mixed up a batch.
I scrubbed
and soaked
and almost turned blonde when washing my hair
but the concoction worked
and I am now destenched
and wiser.
The coat and pajamas and crocs were not so lucky.





Update, one month later:
The crocs have hung on the laundry pole for a month now,
and the skunk smell is still there.
Not nearly as powerful, but still there.

Perhaps in another month they will be wearable

A German ABC, Sort Of

Guten Tag!

Den and I returned this week from chaperoning Barb Simpson's
Clearfield High School German students' European trip.
We visited the Rhine and Mosel Valleys in Germany,
the small country of Luxembourg,
Alsace-Lorraine region of France,
and the Alps near Interlaken, Switzerland.
It was a great trip!

Chaperoning is always a humbling experience.
Sometimes I didn't pay enough attention
so, to compensate,
the next time I may have overreacted.
We were a bit noisy at a Roman ampitheater
and I may have been the culprit.
I also misjudged how well mountain air carries enthusiastic singing.
I made other assumptions that turned out wrong--
who knew that airport security was on TWO floors?
Or being the last person off the plane would put me first in line at security?
So much for racing a kid to see who could catch up to the group
only to find the group behind us...
Sorry, Frau.
Thank you for new friends and memories,
now put in alphabetical order,
mostly in English.

A is for apfelstrudel,
ancient Romans,
Alps,
and Ati, our Pakistani/Italian busdriver
who taught me his secret to a perfect pizza crust
and how to count to three in Urdu and Punjabi.

Apple strudel with vanilla sauce-- I could have licked the plate

Ancient guys. Did Nero have a beard?

Atop Schilthorn, the Alps from above.
 Glad I brought a warm coat!

Den walks past avalanche control

Ati, superb busdriver

B is for bicycles,
barges,
barbapapa (Can you guess what that is?),
beer,
bears,
bells, bells, bells,
and the Battle of the Bulge.

Streets were often without cars, but bicycles were welcome. Ding ding!

Big barges with huge engines were the only ones
that could handle the Rhine/Rhein floodwaters

Barba/beard, Papa/Daddy,
Daddy's beard is cotton candy

Hello, friend!

Bears are a symbol of the area

This man needed beer to get him through "Blowing in the Wind"

C is for carvings
on cathedrals
and castles,
and also for chess
and cards
and conversations with former third graders,
now grown.

Strasbourg Cathedral was covered with carved stone

Small creatures, each one different

Hey Lucy, is this a fox?

The saint is being attacked

Constantine's mother helped start the church in Trier

Eyes, sightless and sighted
Soldiers patrolled the Strasbourg square

My favorite rock carving in Strasbourg was a tribute to the carvers of the past centuries

Ah, castles!

This stretch of the Rhine has the highest count
of castles per kilometer in the world

Castle in the rain.
Yes, it rained.
A lot

This castle staircase was so steep that
I almost came down backwards

Conversation
 Third grade student, Myra, and her teacher, years later

D is for dogs
and detours/"deviations" past dead badgers
and "Danke"
which may make checkout ladies think you're Swiss.

Dogs were everywhere

I was fascinated with this dog's circles

Detour!
Townspeople were as surprised by our bus
as we were by their detour

E is for edelweiss,
electric cars,
Eltz, the family who has owned Burg Eltz for thirty generations,
and eichhornchen, "squirrel" in German.
I have yet to say it correctly without moving my whole body.

We followed this man in edelweiss suspenders

Electric cars recharging

Burg Eltz,
Rick Steves' favorite castle-- and ours

What a roofline!

F is for fountains,
Frankfurt green sauce,
"football" played in a Roman ampitheater
with an improvised soccer ball of electrical tape-wrapped coat-in-a-bag
and Frau Simpson, our mighty and patient leader.

Frau Simpson and Herr Frau

More bears in fountain form

Soccer.
Ummm, no...
"Football".

G is for Gutenberg's printing press,
grapes,
and groupen, one of Den's favorite German words.

Grapes! 
 Vineyards climbed the slopes of the Mosel vertically

Some of our great groupen

Our tour groupen at the Strasbourg Cathedral
and in the Alps near Interlaken, Switzerland
(photos from Frau Simpson)

H is for high places
and high water (hochwasser)
and Happy Birthday
and hat exchanges.

High! 
 Lauderbrunnen Valley from the gondola lift--
the daily view of students from Gimmelwald enroute to school

High! Flood stage warning

The daily singing of Happy Birthday
sounded especially good in the great hall of Rheinfels Castle

Den and Ethan trade hats

I is for ironwork
and internment camp.

Amazing blacksmith work

Epiphany marking beside the protective ironwork

Intricate chandelier

The best ironwork we've ever seen was at Burg Eltz

Even the grates in derelict buildings had interesting ironwork

The metalwork here made an impression as well-- Struthof Internment Camp in the Vosges

J is for Albert Jones,
one of nine Clearfield County WWII soldiers buried in Luxembourg.
We placed county and American flags at their graves
and a rock from the Rockton mountain on their stone crosses.

Justina Gaylor remembers Albert Jones

Caleb Strouse reads "In Flanders Fields"

We will not forget

K is for kinder, the German word for children.
German Kinderkids walk to school.
Alone.
Or they ride their bikes.
Alone.
They go on walking field trips regularly in their "Discover the World" class.
America could learn from the Germans.
By the way,
German has lots more Ks than English does,
and Kilroy was here.

A sign on a neighborhood school
 

Kids' bikes parked outside the schoolyard. Imagine!

L is for Loreley
and luge.
Loreley was a mythical siren
who attracted men to wreck on the Rhine rapids,
but the luge also attracted males to wreck;
testosterone flowed
as the speed record was broken
again
and again.

Den stands where Loreley sat.
We have no pictures of the luge--
didn't want to break the camera!

 
M is for manhole covers--
works of art at your feet,
different in each city,
and musicians that play in the city squares.

Trier

Cochem

Bernkastel

Cool sounds from a steel drum lid, inverted

A Belgian band plays in Luxembourg

Not everyone is a music lover. Three out of four isn't bad...

N is for naps.
Catch them when you can.

Den catches a nap waiting for everyone to arrive

O is for Omega,
which is the last letter of the Greek alphabet.
Alpha is the first, then beta, thus the origin of "alphabet".
To celebrate the thousandth birthday of Strasbourg's cathedral,
two new windows were commissioned.
On the left is Alpha, the beginning, the Creator
with fish and plants and earth and sky.
On the right is Omega, the end, King Jesus,
but if you look Very Closely,
when you look at Jesus
you see people--
as it should be.

We could have looked at these windows for hours

Click on this picture
and make it as BIG as you can
to see some of the 150 faces photographed.
Our tour guide was one of them

P is for plantains big enough to hold pens,
Patton's grave,
pigeons in the square,
poppies,
and lovely people
like Paula from Mexico City
who taught us
that Moien means Hello in Luxembourgese,
and people like the Chinese fusion engineer
who asked us why the USA
didn't want to participate in
international fusion technology research.
Sorry...

Many European plants were the same species as North American plants,
but this plantain was the biggest I have ever seen.
It held my pen!

Patton's wife wanted to be buried with him
but that was not allowed,
so she had herself cremated and sprinkled
on his grave

Pigeons lurking

A poppy is a remembrance of soldiers

Our new friend Paula, a teacher/journalist/nanny

Q is for a quiet lunch of quiche Lorraine
eaten in the French provence of Lorraine.

A good meal with good friends

 

R is for  Rhine River,
rooster weather vanes,
and Ruben, our tour guide.

A three hour tour

Floating past centuries of history 

photo by Sandy Rowles Brown

Almost every weathervane was a rooster

Ruben, the fast-walking, umbrella-carrying, fun tour leader

 


S is for snails,
stork nests,
and stones.

At this size and with their plentiful numbers, no wonder snails are on the menu

Platform for a stork nest to keep them away from chimneys

Stones were recycled from previous centuries

Love the mix of stones

Interesting

Ancient Roman bricks reused to make a retaining wall

Streets get even more colorful when it rains

Corner erosion

Stones atop the Alps

 


T is for timbered houses
and tunnels.

Timbered houses were almost ubiquitous

Old timbers in the towns, new ones growing on the hillsides

All the senses-- the smell of roses,
the sound of waters,
the touch of raindrops,
the sight of centuries-old timbers,
and the lingering taste of tiramisu

Tunnel under Rheinfels Castle

 

U is for umbrellas
and UNESCO,
sponsor of World Heritage Sites
that prohibit new bridges on sections of the Rhine
which makes big buses use small ferries
that make drivers of little cars Very Nervous.

Umbrellas and reluctant dachsund

 

V is for Verboten!
Not always sure what the signs meant,
but if you're comtemplating it,
don't do it!
Verboten!

Our German is not good--
if you park here, you'll be stuck in private ground?

Ummm...
Zurich has strong people? They are not allowed here

 
W is for WC,
walks,
wading,
and waterfalls.

Also known as "toilette",
a welcome sign

Pre-breakfast walk with Christa through private gardens--
like backyards without the houses

Wading in the Rhine, river of ancestral migration

Wine, product of the Mosel valley.
It may make you slightly loopy

Lauderbrunnen waterfall on the left. Don't fall on the right

X is for Marx.
Karl Marx grew up in Trier
looking at the Black Gate.
His house is now a Euromart,
the German equivalent of a Dollar Store.
Ironic.

Pink house was home of little Karl

Trier's Black Gate, an entrance to the old Roman City

Y is for yodel.
We tried.
It wasn't pretty.

This man can't yodel

Z is for Zum Wanderweg 
and zillions of other memories
of bunkers
     disguised as houses
and dancing in city squares--
     (Is that square dancing?)
     and wishing that you had organized a flash mob
and skies
     that once held countless fighters and bombers
and long airport security lines
    where you may be called upon to body-block
    leering Eastern Europeans
and a pearl-handled Mauser
     with a layered stock
and jesters to encourage you to speak freely
     and roses to shut you up
     explained by tour guides that sound like Monty Python
and looking down
     at shipping barges in Rotterdam's canals 
and basement masses
     and confessions
and stairways to heaven
    conquered by limping grandmas
and wishing you knew
    even a small part 
    of what the cemetery guide forgot
and drug-sniffing dogs in training
and schnitzel
     with noodles (sing it!)
and astronomic clocks
     watched on the quarter-hour
and new ways of organizing the alphabet
and are Unterwesels
     the minions for Oberwesels?
and James Bond
     mysteriously appearing in bathroom mirrors
and contests
     to see who can keep their feet in glacial meltwater the longest
and putt putt golf
     (Do they have that in Germany?)
and good times with friends,
     new and old.

Zum Wanderweg--"Trail this way."
Blessings on the trails yet ahead of you...
Auf wiedersehen!