When in Germany, do as the Germans do: walk! "It's just over there." The local man gestured northwest. "...just walk." We could do that.
Fueled for the day on a marvelous breakfast of dense bread, cheese, lunch meats, fruit, juice, coffee and a sweet roll - a far cry from our usual bowl of cereal - we headed out. At home "just over there" means a block or a few, not miles, and here we would have to walk back. Balanced on the edge of the road and in the ditch, we tromped. Cars passed. No one stopped. After an hour we spotted a crowd of people and tents.
Just in time for the start of the parade we looked for a place to sit. Park benches? Heavens no. Stand. In the sun. Smile. Perspire. Water? What's water? The huge beer stein (one size fits all) required both hands. "You hold the beer, I'll hold the pretzel," I instructed. It was dinner plate-sized. We weren't hungry, but alcohol and I don't get along. I have to be extremely thirsty to take a small sip, and there wasn't anything smaller to nibble on.
At this Bavarian horse parade two kinds of horses stood out. A pair of huge draft horses, with their heads down, pulled a wagon. A local couple dressed in traditional costume graced the wagon seat. The lady looked pretty in her fitted white bodice and full skirt. The horses knew they were created to work pulling heavy loads. Built for it, they accepted their lot.
A black stallion with English saddle and rider took our breath away. He walked with his head high radiating pride and superior intelligence. Long-distance Aquarius vision shown on his face. He could see the "larger" picture of life. Not meant to work pulling wagons, we half expected him to take off running and fly. No, a few sips didn't influence us. The rest of the horses were so-so, but this one was magnificent. We stood in awe.
A variety of nondescript horses paraded by, more draft horses looking down pulling their wagon and people, and another magnificent black stallion. "He's just as beautiful as the last one," Minnie stopped in mid-nibble. The parade had gone around twice.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
The water snake that wouldn't...
Dot tapped on my bedroom window, "You've got to come see this." Her wide grin suggested I'd learn something.
The backyard above ground swimming pool has a small window above the waterline for the water filtering system. Inside the pool, on the top of the mini-window frame, lay a folded over baby snake, it's head's about the size of my index fingernail. Clearly it did not want to get in the water, but it's store-string sized tail kept falling in. I suspect it hasn't yet learned control of it's "back end." JB says the spots indicate it's a water mocassin--anti-water is more like it.
Maybe it was just on an adventure and wanted to cool off, not jump in - yet. Water 101. It's so hot in the midwest, my friend, Nancy finds garter snakes draped over bushes to cool off.
Dot decided to remove it from the pool with her long-handled grill tongs. She lifted the frame from the outside of the window, reached in, and grabbed its middle. "Now what do we do?"
Beyond her fenced in yard the woods are dense. "Throw it over the fence. Send it home. It's mother is probably looking for it. Boy, is it going to get a cussing. She'd be embarrassed it wouldn't get in the water. Bet he'll be grounded." Wasted humor. She had but one thing on her mind and that was to get it out of the yard and over the fence. Mind you, this is "hog fence" with open spaces between the wires at least 6" square. The snake is about a foot long and half an inch wide. It's the principle.
"Shall I rinse off the tongs?"
"Nooooooo, put them in the dishwasher!"
Only one of us was amused to meet a waterless moccasin.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
The backyard above ground swimming pool has a small window above the waterline for the water filtering system. Inside the pool, on the top of the mini-window frame, lay a folded over baby snake, it's head's about the size of my index fingernail. Clearly it did not want to get in the water, but it's store-string sized tail kept falling in. I suspect it hasn't yet learned control of it's "back end." JB says the spots indicate it's a water mocassin--anti-water is more like it.
Maybe it was just on an adventure and wanted to cool off, not jump in - yet. Water 101. It's so hot in the midwest, my friend, Nancy finds garter snakes draped over bushes to cool off.
Dot decided to remove it from the pool with her long-handled grill tongs. She lifted the frame from the outside of the window, reached in, and grabbed its middle. "Now what do we do?"
Beyond her fenced in yard the woods are dense. "Throw it over the fence. Send it home. It's mother is probably looking for it. Boy, is it going to get a cussing. She'd be embarrassed it wouldn't get in the water. Bet he'll be grounded." Wasted humor. She had but one thing on her mind and that was to get it out of the yard and over the fence. Mind you, this is "hog fence" with open spaces between the wires at least 6" square. The snake is about a foot long and half an inch wide. It's the principle.
"Shall I rinse off the tongs?"
"Nooooooo, put them in the dishwasher!"
Only one of us was amused to meet a waterless moccasin.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Where my suitcase dropped:
Alabama. Seagulls land in the parking lots, storms come up quick and violent, and the countryside is steep Iowa-type wooded hills. I used to hit every shoe sale until I ran out of closet space. Now I can't pass a fresh fruit and vegetable stand.
We cook fresh string beans with new baby red potatoes, onion and bacon. Delicious. Non-slimy okra cooked in a little v-8 juice, with fresh chopped tomatoes, summer squsash, zucchini, shallots, onions, and chopped fresh basil is wonderful with a slice of toasted garlic bread. I'm going to try it cold with a chopped cucumber and some sour cream - gazpacho of sorts. Breakfast is a ripe peach sliced with blueberries, strawberries, a mini-banana and plain yogurt: clock food. It keeps my sytem on time.
I've learned Crawfish are edible if they're curled. If they're straight it means they were dead when cooked, and they're poisonous. My first experience with crawfish wasn't good. They tasted muddy. Since I learned how to shuck them and remove the vein, I like them.
My gracious friend Dot's motto is: if it's NOT broke, I can fix it! And she'll paint it and move it. Shop tools are her passion, and she can sense a yard sale for miles. She seems to have a hotline to the Universal storehouse. Her needs aren't always voiced aloud, but whatever it is, it shows up: ie, a tall lamp for the living room. A couple of days later she came home with one somebody threw out, and the bulb still works.
To beautify her yard, Dot wanted a saga palm. Without her saying so, a friend brought her one that was "left behind." Pathetic. The shape of a pineapple and dead. She planted it by her back deck, talked to it, and watered it daily. Weeks went by before a sign of life appeared. "It's a miracle," she exclaimed. Send birth announcements. When it displayed a dozen leaves each a foot long, her riding mower got away from her crashing into it with blades a whirling. She exploded in tears apologizing to saga.
Her son came running. "What's wrong?"
"I killed my saga." Big tears.
"It'll be okay," and under his breath, it's just a plant.
"It's my baby." More Dot tears.
Daniel tilted the mower and dislodged the pulled-from-the-ground saga. Sad story. It's no longer round. The east side is flat. They planted it back in the ground, added water, and the last time we looked, six leaves survived, three more are scarred - paint won't help, and three are missing.
We celebrated the 4th early picniking on the deck with seafood gumbo, dirty rice, seafood salad, (We can't get enough fresh seafood when we're near the sea.) watermelon, brownies, and loving concern for the saga palm. On the 4th we're going to a Mississippi goat roast. That's another story. May your 4th be equally as pleasant.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
We cook fresh string beans with new baby red potatoes, onion and bacon. Delicious. Non-slimy okra cooked in a little v-8 juice, with fresh chopped tomatoes, summer squsash, zucchini, shallots, onions, and chopped fresh basil is wonderful with a slice of toasted garlic bread. I'm going to try it cold with a chopped cucumber and some sour cream - gazpacho of sorts. Breakfast is a ripe peach sliced with blueberries, strawberries, a mini-banana and plain yogurt: clock food. It keeps my sytem on time.
I've learned Crawfish are edible if they're curled. If they're straight it means they were dead when cooked, and they're poisonous. My first experience with crawfish wasn't good. They tasted muddy. Since I learned how to shuck them and remove the vein, I like them.
My gracious friend Dot's motto is: if it's NOT broke, I can fix it! And she'll paint it and move it. Shop tools are her passion, and she can sense a yard sale for miles. She seems to have a hotline to the Universal storehouse. Her needs aren't always voiced aloud, but whatever it is, it shows up: ie, a tall lamp for the living room. A couple of days later she came home with one somebody threw out, and the bulb still works.
To beautify her yard, Dot wanted a saga palm. Without her saying so, a friend brought her one that was "left behind." Pathetic. The shape of a pineapple and dead. She planted it by her back deck, talked to it, and watered it daily. Weeks went by before a sign of life appeared. "It's a miracle," she exclaimed. Send birth announcements. When it displayed a dozen leaves each a foot long, her riding mower got away from her crashing into it with blades a whirling. She exploded in tears apologizing to saga.
Her son came running. "What's wrong?"
"I killed my saga." Big tears.
"It'll be okay," and under his breath, it's just a plant.
"It's my baby." More Dot tears.
Daniel tilted the mower and dislodged the pulled-from-the-ground saga. Sad story. It's no longer round. The east side is flat. They planted it back in the ground, added water, and the last time we looked, six leaves survived, three more are scarred - paint won't help, and three are missing.
We celebrated the 4th early picniking on the deck with seafood gumbo, dirty rice, seafood salad, (We can't get enough fresh seafood when we're near the sea.) watermelon, brownies, and loving concern for the saga palm. On the 4th we're going to a Mississippi goat roast. That's another story. May your 4th be equally as pleasant.
copyright 2006 Red Convertible Travel Series
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