It’s been a long time since I posted any travel news, even
though I have been away from the farm often enough since the last entry. The
Arizona/California heat, the brilliant desert colours seem far away now, and it
will be difficult to finish reporting on that journey. Only two or three days
were missing, however, and in the midst of a Canadian cold spell I might still
attempt to go back.
For the last few years we left winter and darkness behind at
this time of year to discover the wonders of different South and Central
American countries. This year, however, due to family circumstances, we went
back to Germany for the fourth time this year. During our earlier trips, two of
them in the summer when Germany’s flora is at its most beautiful, we got to
know areas of Germany I hadn’t known before: a week-long bike holiday brought
us to the very north to the province of Schleswig-Holstein, bordered by both
the North and the Baltic Sea, where we explored the area around one of the many
lakes, the Ploener See. In August we found ourselves at the opposite end of
Germany in Bavaria where we celebrated the wedding of our son. Great weather
made both trips even more enjoyable.
Now, however, we had little reason to expect a repeat of
such good fortune: traditionally, November is the most dreary month of the year
here, grey, fog weighing heavily on landscape and people, moisture
dripping from every branch, seeping through every crevice, in short, weather to
huddle close to any source of heat within reach, to stay inside.
Sometimes it is good to have low expectations; that way it
is easy to be positively surprised. I can hardly believe how lucky we have been
so far: two weeks of fair weather with only a few hours of drizzle where I am
in Northern Hesse. Especially these last few days have been unbelievably
beautiful, the sky a deep blue, the mist creeping in during the night turning
trees and meadows, even the most ordinary objects into something magical once
the sun lights up the thick coat of hoarfrost. I walk home from my mother's place to my apartment
slowly in the evening, stopping from time to time out of reach of the
interfering light of the street lanterns to gaze at the sky. Even here I find
Cassiopeia and the Big Dipper, the familiar V of Taurus with its faintly
glowing cluster of the Seven Sisters above. Now, the moon is starting to fill out again, more 'ordinary' looking, but just a few days ago the pairing of brilliant Venus and the slender silver thread of the almost-new moon rising above birch and spruce silhouetted against the luminous early evening sky was achingly beautiful.
On the first weekend of my stay I
visited my brother and family who live in a small town not far from Stuttgart.
The weather had been mild and dry, even sunny, for the first few days of my
stay, but on my way south clouds started to gather in the Frankfurt area and
drew ever closer together the further south I got. It stayed dry, however,
which gave us a chance for some wonderful walks through the fields and meadow apple
orchards that are the most prominent landscape features here. The forested
limestone ridge of the Swabian Jura rises in the distance, and Hohenneuffen
Castle was well visible from where we walked. Government subventions after the
war helped to develop the fruit growing industry, and still a lot of fruit,
apples in particular, are produced in this area, often to be turned into juice
or cider.
Not all of the trees are part of
commercially owned orchards, however, and it was obvious that in this year of
excellent yields there were enough people who couldn’t keep up with the bounty.
Living in a part of the world where, due to climatic restrictions, it had been
difficult to produce any good-size apples until fairly recently and where it is
still not to be taken for granted the sight of trees still loaded with fruit
that was quite obviously not going to be harvested was not easy for me to accept. On the other hand,
I thoroughly enjoyed to be able to sample different varieties, picking a couple
here and there. My favourites, I think, are still the tart Boskoop apples with
their red-green, somewhat dull skin.
It was not only the fruit that delighted me, of course. Trees always fascinate me, the older they are the more, and this venerable old apple tree was no exception. I'd like to think that it is still standing because the owner, like me, sees it not only as a means to an end but a sentient being worthy to live out its last days as Mother Nature sees fit.
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| Cinderella tree: 'Shiver and quiver, my little tree, throw silver and gold over me' |
