Where to begin? Oh, at the beginning...

Disclaimer:  

We have just returned from a visit to MC. He lives in one of those areas of Europe known for tourism...and many other things. (MC has a BA in History - this is not foreshadowing. It is warning/explanation/"heads up.")

Computer issues prevented me from working on posts, so my mind has shuffled and reshuffled our experiences. Forgive me if the following few (maybe 4 or 5 or 6) walks are comprehensible only to me. I hope there will be something new for you, dear friends - a sight or thought or story that is different.*

Flashback: 

In 1997, DH and I traveled in Germany with the children. I planned the trip for us and for another family. While I had been to Europe before I traveled alone (1977) or with one companion (DH in 1981). This was the first trip I planned by computer and, because there were two families (our 5 and their 4) traveling, accommodations were a nightmare.

We discovered a few of our rooms were upstairs - sometimes many flights of stairs. In Munich, I achieved true award-winning status - and not in a good way. We drove down the street looking for the number of our guesthouse and I spotted a four story building on one corner. "It's probably that one. And we will be on the top floor."

It was and we were. 

But that wasn't all. We were all in one big room up four flights of unheated stairwell. The bathrooms were down the hall (and also unheated). AND the place was having difficulty with the hot water. We had to go to another floor for hot showers...then run up the freezing stairwell to jump into our beds.**

2013:

For this trip, our dear boy arranged for us to stay in a friend's apartment - (yes, you guessed it) up four flights of stairs (59 steps according to DH). Now, I walk up and down stairs every day, at work and at home, but I was not ready for this. It was a wonderful place - huge and very nice. And by the end of the trip, I had adjusted to the four flights.

During this trip we walked down "narrow streets of cobblestone"*** through historic walled cities (Nuremberg, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, and Amberg), and in country towns with other history (Flossenburg and Pottenstein). Cobblestone streets are hard on the feet....just saying.

So, here are some selections from the trip...stairs and climbs, cobblestones and such.

Stairwell at the apartment

Stairs at Flossenburg concentration camp

Walking down the steps into the Valley of Death, the memorial at Flossenburg Camp.

Steps on the way up from the memorial at Flossenburg next to part of original electrified fence post.

Steps to the back of the crematorium, Flossenburg Concentration Camp

Walking up towards the burg ruins at Flossenburg  (Yes, that is MC on the wall - waiting for DH who was waiting for me)

Stairs - Flossenburg

Railings show the steps to the top of the burg at Flossenburg.

Proof I climbed - ruins at Flossenburg

Steps at Flossenburg

Steps/seating at the Zeppelinfeld, Nuremberg

Stairs at the Palace of Justice, Nuremberg

DH and LD leaving the exhibit in the Palace of Justice, Nuremberg

Some of steps to the tower of the Rathaus, Rothenburg ob der Tauber

Still in the Rathaus in Rothenburg

Climbing in Rothenburg - Rathaus basement? tower? old city walls?

Let's walk around the city on the walls - Rothenburg

Same stairs, different view.

Short cut to MC's house - notice the even and measured steps, unlike almost every other set of stairs you see here!

Climbing uphill in Pottenstein.

Roots of a pine tree breaking up the path in Pottenstein.

Climb to top of hill near Pottenstein.

Cobbles in Rothenburg ob der Tauber

Uneven walkway on the walls in Rothenburg - some stones, some bricks, some cement repairs.

Cobbles in walkways at burg, Flossenburg.a

YES! I did walk around on the walls in Rothenburg. I did get to the top of the Rathaus. I also climbed to the top of the hills in Pottenstein and Flossenburg...and here is the proof****:

PROOF:

Sunset at the top of the Burgruine, Flossenburg

More, Flossenburg

Looking down on the city of Flossenburg

Another view off the burg hill, Flossenburg

Look closely. See the tiny mountain on the left just above the horizon? That is allegedly a sleeping volcano. I always eavesdrop on tour guides and heard one explaining that mountain as we stood atop the hill. She also explained the shiny flecks in the local granite were referred to as "glimmer." 

Atop the Rathaus, Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

In the city walls, Rothenburg.

Another view from the walls, Rothenburg.

Top of the castle hill, Pottenstein

Another view in Pottenstein

NOTES:

* I find myself typing German city names multiple ways. "Berg" and "burg" can throw me. It makes sense to apply the rule that "burg" refers to a "castle" while "berg" means "hill" (but some "bergs" have castles too and most "burgs" are built atop hills or mountains). Interestingly, while pronounced the same in English, I understand they are pronounced differently in German. Anyway, if I mess one up every now and again, I am blaming it on my fast typing and not my poor spelling and/or confusion/bad attitude.

**The saving grace for this place was a wonderful breakfast in the first floor restaurant/bar where we feasted in a room with a stunning beveled glass room divider and where we learned that people in Europe can bring their well behaved dogs inside. The children were fascinated.

***Paul Simon, The Sounds of Silence. More on that later too.

**** I am afraid of heights. If you know me, you know I don't like to stand on a chair - or climb a ladder. My children can tell stories of towers I climbed, but never exited atop - balconies I climbed to, but never stood on - handing my camera out to the children to take a photo. They (and DH) are all "devil dares," but I am not. Still, now that I am no longer gripping the back of an all too adventurous child's waistband (now I merely avert my eyes or turn away when they are walking too close to the edge), I seem to be a little braver about high places.

Final note here --- OK. I know I posted the train ride first, but I was trying to get it "out there" for my dear youngest nephew (and collaborator in railroad adventures). 

100 miles in the kitchen

Today I realized that I have not cooked a Christmas meal in my kitchen in over five years. It all felt so strange. I forgot to put the turkey in the oven. [Had one child not asked, "Is the turkey in the oven?" we would have been eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.] It was clear that I was  not on my game.

But once started, it all came back (I have cooked a couple of Thanksgiving meals - one at home, one at the river - in the past few years, but somehow Christmas seems "higher stakes." ). It is not a hard thing to do, but you have to think about it. Timing is an issue. Coordination of effort is necessary. [You have to clean off your counters too.]

When my mother was still alive we would be home for most holidays. I watched her organize the feast for days - cook the cornbread with onions and celery, make the Christmas cookies (Christine cookies, Lizzies, spreckle cookies and Russian Rocks*). She had turkey broth in the freezer to make the gravy. She made mountains of food - enough for an army - she would say. We all pitched in and learned by doing.

And everything would be ready about the same time - noon. We always ate at noon. Other people have mid-afternoon Christmas meals, but we did not. And we set up extra tables as the family grew.

I cook (mostly) the way my mother cooked, but work and other things have interfered with my planning and preparation for this holiday. And as I cooked today, I felt Mom with me.

I heard her instructions for making the dressing** "soppy enough." And I was surrounded by her cooking equipment. The turkey breast thawed in a pan Mom admitted she swiped from an employer in the early 50s (I can say this now - the statute of limitations has run.).We spread the vegetables out on Mother's foil-lined jelly roll pans. *** We cooked potatoes in the large soup pot that was hers (I gave mine away to MC and kept Mom's, dented bottom and all). I strained the flour/water thickening for the gravy**** through a old strainer that I know was hers.

After my grandmother died, Mom and I would often talk about her as we worked in the kitchen. I can hear her telling me "My mother is with me all the time." I didn't understand it then. I do now.

NOTES:

* I have had two requests for cookie recipes information this holiday season (and one request at Thanksgiving for Grandma's dressing recipe), but I have baked nary a cookie. I may have to bake in the new year and mail out the cookies.

**  "Not too much sage, now. Aunt Helen always had the perfect amount of sage in hers."

*** I scrubbed these pans with steel wool and got most of the old burnt on grease and whatever off. And I gave my sister a pan when she spied them in my kitchen (And I told her how long it took me to scrub them clean.).

**** This gravy was a beautiful brown, but was a little thin. One year my sister and I giggled hysterically about having no Kitchen Bouquet to brown the gravy. [Mom taught us about Kitchen Bouquet, too] We each came up with the same idea - try a drop or so of red food coloring. Well, DON'T DO IT! We had pink gravy that year and still joke about the year of the pink gravy. And now we make sure there is KB in the cabinet.

That's some pretty brown gravy...

Brussel sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, onions, parsnips...

Not enough sage...just saying

Lone sprout, deserted on a plate...can you really trust a man who does not eat veggies?

Christmas eve eve

6:15 a.m.

YC: Mom, <something incomprehensible>?

ME: HUH?

YC: Didn't you want to walk the dogs? 

ME: "<Something incomprehensible> grumble, grumble"


It is a strange turn of events, children waking you. But I was up and dressed and ready to walk as I woke to the thought that today's list was long  (It still is). And we have lots of people with whom we must coordinate. Family was here - only a short walk was possible before we were to meet for breakfast.

Movies have been selected for later in the day, timed for a lunch with OC who is working (With only Christmas day off her schedule takes priority). I have work obligations and and other household responsibilities - cornbread must be made, a camera must be purchased (after fruitless research, I am still sans camera), gifts must be wrapped, and so on).

My head was filled with the "gottas." *

But soon the pace of the walk, the cold, the silence, and the beauty of the early morning focused my mind on the walk.

The frost twinkled on the grass as DH and I headed to the park.

The walk seemed strange until I remind myself why the quiet was deeper/the shadows darker. Holiday walks are calmer with the absence of the school rush. Missing is the grunt and growl of the yellow school bus disturbing the darkness with flashing light. Chattering children do not prowl the corners. Frantic parents and teenage drivers are not rushing to early morning sports practice.

It was cold, but not the piercing cold we have had earlier this winter. The air was still. Our breath billowed out. (We could hear the few runners' labored breathing before we saw the breathers).

The park was empty. The rain of two days ago had pooled in parts of the creek and it appeared that a thin layer of ice skimmed the surface.

We were the only creatures about other than the two runners and few drivers heading to work. No neighbors came out to talk. No cats prowled; no dogs growled.

I noticed one set of holiday lights casting odd parabolas against the siding. "Need a camera," was my thought. The walk was over. The work begins.

* DH and I used to bemoan the "gottas" in the days BC (before children). We would have a day or two off from school and would want to do something fun, but the "gottas" would "get" us. I suppose there really is no rest for the wicked. (Isiah 48:22 and 57:20-21)

A different kind of Sunday morning walk

I don't like to shop on Sunday unless it is to fill an empty gas tank or hungry refrigerator. I guess I do have some standards. But the holidays are upon us and I have wanted to go south (to an outlet mall, no less) to pick up a few things. And my girls are going.

I will ask them if it is OK to tag along. And I will try to judge if their "Sure, Mom. Come with us" has any hint of "Darn. We love her, but need some time on our own" to it.

I could opt out of this trip. I have much to do today. But part of my need to go is the result of a trip I will take later this afternoon.

This morning I have been going through the motions of folding and stacking recyclables, washing clothes, and making breakfast while composing my words for later today when I will try to express my condolences to the parents of a coworker.

 I will tell them some things they already know and some things I hope will give them comfort - eventually. She was smart and kind and strong. I enjoyed working with her and I let her know how much I appreciated her, how glad I was that she was my colleague. I am going to miss the hell out of her. She was special. 

My friend was the age of my children. And, perhaps because she was so young, my perspective is of one generation observing the next. I was so proud of her - proud that she had found what she wanted to do in life and was darned good at it.

Her death is a tragedy. I am sad and I am angry. But I am also grateful for the opportunity to have known her and  worked with her.

So, I will shop today to steal just a little more time with my girls, to let them know by my presence and behavior (hopefully - you can never tell what I will do) that I appreciate them and am proud of them, these smart and kind and strong women.

My shopping trip is also fueled by a message from my other child, the smart and kind and strong man we will see in a few days. Some months ago he told me never to miss the opportunity to be together.

He's right.

When one hasn't walked in a while...

The streets were slick with that thin film of moisture from a "less than a mist" of precipitation. I had thought our only hazard would be the carpeting of leaves* along the route, but the streets proved to be a sly danger.

Leaves almost cover the sidewalk

Messy looking pecan leaves.

Bur oak leaves still clinging on.

More oak leaves in a neighbor's yard.

Our yard...I do not want to rake!#

Paddy contemplating the mixed oak leaves - Bur and Red

 It was too late a start for my introverted DH. Neighbors were out. They talked to us.

We saw a young man at the house with the red door and asked about the flashlight. (See "It was a cold and rainy night" and "Little dog lost" regarding the yellow flashlight). One always knows that all hope is lost when a person diverts attention from self to sibling. "Oh, didn't my brother bring the flashlight back to you?"

It appears I will be purchasing a new flashlight for DH as there was a U-Haul trailer parked at the house with the red door. I suspect the flashlight is long gone or will be soon. Ah, well. Finding Abby the boxer was more important than the yellow flashlight.

We dodged the morning rush hour traffic along our street. We avoided the speeding park employees, clearly late for work.

DH tried to convince me that the mist had made the dirt road "un-walkable," but I am no fool.

The slight breeze at our back took our scent before us and no deer showed themselves today. We could hear them in the brush alongside the road. We could also hear the gentle rustle of the dried grass of the meadows as the wind moved across creating wave upon wave.

In the dim morning light the meadows appeared less "seas of grass" than the tawny pelt of some enormous creature, rustling, rousing itself after a long night's sleep - the haw-hawing of the crows startling us and startling the meadow creature awake.

The 7:15 train rumbled in the distance and then blasted its warnings as it reached the crossings in our small town. 

Ah, and DH was impatient today. There was little time for a wandering mind and bad photos.**

As we headed for home the boys far outpaced the girls. I had seen a vision just past the candy cane house (Our neighbors are all decorated for the holidays. We are not.) - someone had been cleaning at the cat man's house. The trash cans were full. Sticking out of the containers were old, tired brooms and a mop...the tired or, perhaps, the retired.

Retirement

DH and Walker

As I snapped away - unhappy with each image - a disembodied voice called something from the garage.

 "Excuse me?" I replied.

 "Are you going to make a collage?" came the voice again.

"No," I replied. "I just thought this looked cool and wanted a photo for my blog. I write about my walks."

Then, out of the garage came Jane. We chatted for a good while. She was the creative mind behind the interesting trash assemblage. I learned quite a bit in our short visit. She "is what 67 looks like." And, yes, she is an artist - mixed media - acrylic and fiber. She shares her home with "two and a half cats."

"A half?" I inquired.

"Yes, I discovered one in the rafters of the garage," she explained. "It looks exactly like one of mine, so I named it Ditto and only count it as a half."***

I must admit I had to ask her name a second time before my rusty memory devices worked. **** Then Jane headed off to work and I headed home, wondering when I would see DH driving towards me. I had tarried too long and he would have started to worry.



Ah, Paddy and I were two blocks from home before DH could be seen driving our direction. He saw us too and headed back around the block.*****

Time to take cars to the shop, eat breakfast, and perhaps put up some lights.


NOTES:

*  I have tried to capture samples of the carpets (in some spots) and rugs (in others) of the fallen leaves. We expect a front tonight/tomorrow. I have learned that my procrastination - I will stop and take a picture another day - allows too many images escape. The leaves will (hopefully) be scattered in the wind.

**  I have been shopping for cameras. I decide on one when another - for a few dollars more- offers better this or that and I am once again undecided. The broken new camera has made me overly cautious. I have researched "lens error" and found it common and difficult/impossible to repair. Bummer.

***  How appropriate for a cat lady to move into the cat man's house.

**** "Jane" might have been the name of YC had I known about my great great grandmother's second set of twins and named my only set accordingly (and had I not been opposed to giving all of the children "J" names).

***** Is it not strange that we can avoid worry when we are thousands of miles apart  for months at a time, but just be 10 minutes late on a walk and it is necessary to send out a search party? [OK. Maybe it was 20 minutes.]

# http://www.nytimes.com/2013/11/25/nyregion/rake-the-leaves-some-towns-say-mow-them.html?_r=0 (sorry, tired of asterisks).

BREAKFAST

Tacos - choriso, huevos, y frijoles

Came back to comment on breakfast and this photo was missing - Huevos 

rancheros and more.

Krakens and Petey the dog and, of course, a few deer.

Really, we needed to walk.

We had all been inside too much with the past three days of frigid weather. The weather channels all said it was below freezing. It was misty and wet, but there was no ice on the street or sidewalk outside the house, so we risked it.

RELEASE THE KRAKENS!*

DH took Scruffy and I took Paddy. We don't usually have good experiences walking them on a regular leash (we use a double lead and they walk together), but today they cooperated. [This means no one tripped, no one strained a muscle, and no one wrapped themselves around a sign pole.]

Scruffy waiting patiently. I just wanted a photo, but he wanted a cookie!

Paddy always moves...just too distracted. This was the only one not blurred ("If Scruffy gets a cookie, I do too!")

We walked slowly and carefully for the first few blocks, testing the road and sidewalks. Still, no ice presented and we grew brave with each step. The dogs too, hustled down the street, willing to test who was truly Alpha (Our guys still have not established dominance. Each behaves in a manner indicating dominance at times. And they will race down the street, only momentarily distracted by one good scent or a hamburger wrapper, to see which will be lead dog).It makes for a spirited walk.

We were passed by a truck as we walked into the park. "It looked like Petey!" I said, commenting on the pit bull, ears un-cropped, leering out the window on the passenger side. "Too big." replied DH.

It IS nice to have a companion who "gets" your references (to television shows that kept one glued to the tube at 7 years of age. I suspect my children have see re-runs. I think the shows we saw were re-runs, perhaps re-runs of re-runs..).

I looked  to see where the truck parked and saw deer running at the edge of the woods bordering the river. "Look at the deer!" I suspect I repeated it twice more. [For some reason one cry is not enough - it must be "Look at the deer! Look at the deer! Look at the deer!"] I tried to be patient as I pointed them out to DH, who must sometimes think I am seeing things or just "making it up" so I have something to write about. The deer moved behind a building and then showed themselves for a few seconds more before crossing the fence into the old golf course. [There were three does, in case you wondered.]

Just before we spied the deer, DH had warned me, "If you are going down the trail, you are going by yourself!" I think we both realized there would be some mud and neither of us wanted to risk ruining such a nice walk. And I had to include that comment as it is perfectly DH.

That was it. We had a nice walk. The dogs behaved. We saw three deer far in the distance. Then we examined one of the neighborhood trees damaged by a storm a few weeks ago. The damage looks terrible from a distance, but only a close examination shows the true violent result of that weather.

Almost 1/3 of the tree sheared off.

From the other side

Probably an 8 foot gash.

Odds and ends:

Softball lost in the woods. Yes, I am that person. I picked it up for catch with Paddy. Scruffy never learned to play.

Wild seeds of the purple leatherflower.

Dead tree full of blackbirds against a grey sky.

* Yeah, I know. This is so corny. But we say it all the time, so I am sharing it here. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb2zIR2rvRQ ]