Early November always reminds me of Scotland, the best memories of our UK winter tour there 10 years ago. Going for breakfast on All Saint’s Day, Celtic New Year, at some barren stone cottage on the shores of Loch Ness…. Read More ›
travel
Erste und Letzte (firsts and lasts)
That first walk up the Himmelsleiter was the best and darkest, my first morning back in Germany. The Himmelsleiter, that long set of narrow steps up the vineyards, through the spooky underpass beneath the train tracks in the dark, crossing… Read More ›
Vivid Youth
Tired as I was I still had that Christmas morning feeling of excitement that had me wanting to get out of bed. I’d been up since 01:11 and committed myself to staying in bed until 3. Something about 3 vs…. Read More ›
First Sunday in Germany
Trying to sleep on the plane. Amazing you can sit right next to someone in close quarters for ten hours and not say a word. Bisecting Canada and then Greenland. Always the longest slog, inching down over Iceland with the… Read More ›
The lift
For as excited as I was to be back in Europe I knew I’d miss my daily routine back home. Especially the drive to the park in the early mornings down the long, straight road. It’s curled like a tongue,… Read More ›
Ripeness
It could have been the sound of the church bells on my early morning walk, going through the last few years of late August memories. Parsing through the past was like looking across a vista, trying to make out what… Read More ›
Bookending
This is a series of posts written from my mom’s house in Germany that begins here, and ends with this post. I came and went on a Thursday. Took the old walk my last day, the one mom calls her… Read More ›
Leaving the country
At Eberhard’s we sit outside his mom’s place on a rickety bench with our backs against a stone hut, by the walnut tree. He uses a tree stump for a small table with a crude table top balanced on top… Read More ›
Last Sunday in Germany
On Sunday we’d go to Eberhard’s house in the country. It’s actually his mom’s house, and he’s been living there for years since she had a stroke and can’t live by herself. He’s also got a house across the road… Read More ›
The pearly everlasting
We meet mom’s friend Helga for dinner at the Croatian guy Tony’s new restaurant and sit inside at the best table (“without shadows,” Tony says). It’s called Adriatic cuisine, which I take to mean Mediterranean, though my geography and culinary… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 