Waxing poetic?

 Well, not poetic, but at least thoughtful.  I guess sitting at the airport with just waiting time brings me to thinking.  The view out the window is cloudy with rain.  The high peaks of the Alps are not visible, but the world of the airport marches on.

Having spent most of this trip not in 'super tourist' mode, I truly appreciate the hospitality shown me, both in Germany and France.  I love seeing the everyday life of my friends and family, visiting their grocery stores and garden centers, joining them on excursions they take, enjoying the restaurants they frequent.  Life is good, though varied.  And that is what travel is about for me:  seeing that routines, choices, opinions and methods, different from my usual, also work perfectly well.  

Yesterday was Lindt chocolate day.  There was lots of information and plenty of chocolate to sample.  A success for all.

Next year I turn 75.  After that, travel insurance becomes much more expensive.  I plan to get my travelling in before that Oct. date.

Gardening

My first garden was a patch about 1m wide and 4m long along the driveway at the farm.  That garden is still there, now being tended by the new Mrs. Locher.  I remember how delighted I was to have my own space.  

In subsequent houses, I have had many gardens, some established when I got there and just needed enlarging, embellishing  or total revamping, some that I planned and brought to life.  I have taken some courses in plant culture, but most of my gardening knowledge comes first from my Mother and then by trial and error.  Yes, there have been mistakes and failures, but for me, a garden has always been a joy.  I used to say that as long as I had a garden I didn't need a therapist.  It turned out that was wrong, but gardening is therapy.  My kids used to say that 'Mom plays in the dirt'.  True, true.

And I have gardened in many places.  In my own places in London, Millgrove, Hamilton and now Chippawa, I have refined my techniques and decided on what plants I have to have.  I have worked in other gardens for friends and family at home and abroad.  I tend my brother's garden which I helped his late wife plant.  I have pulled out invasive species -- even the lupins in Sweden.  

This week I had the opportunity to work in a lovely garden in France.  It is quite different from my own and has some plants which I can only dream of, but most of the weeds are the same and mulching helps here as much as at home.

Just before I left home, there was an unusual spike in the pot with the bird of paradise.  Indeed it was a flower, of which I saw just the beginning, but Ian has been sending me a picture each day so I can delight in the opening blossom.  It will probably be finished by the time I get home, but I am enjoying it, and as my father would say:  You can't hunt all the rabbits.  And when I get home, there will be lovely things to see even if they are not orange.

Living

 Rhonda picked me up at the Basel train station and we came here to her and Robert's house in Habsheim.  We talked and talked, the way we always do.  She brought me up to date on family and friends and I did the same.  We walked around the garden and the village and talked.  We set up a picture puzzle and pulled out paintings to take to a shop and talked.  We drove to the supermarket and the craft store and talked.  We stopped for lunch and talked.  But in everything, we also laughed.  We have always laughed together, through difficult times and happy times.  I guess that's what makes for a lasting friendship, being able to share the hurdles of life and still find the positive.

An alternate life

 My cousin Johanna was sent to a convent boarding school for 4 years -- the last part of her regular school time.  It was the suggestion of a great aunt who lived in the region and thought it would be good for a young lady, perhaps even secretly hoping that she would choose to become a nun.

Well Johanna went, met some great teachers and friends, but did not take up the habit.  But she has kept up contact with the convent, which since, is no longer a school but now a retreat centre and hotel.  However, the Sisters still reside there and a number of the ones who Johanna had as teachers are still living and remember her.  Back at the end of July, the class of 9 girls had a reunion at the Bonland Kloster.  The building has changed, of course, but there are still gardens and the church as she remembers.  How interesting to hear the details of a schooling so different to mine.  We had coffee and cake at the Kloster and I met Sister Cecilia who was the head music teacher and played the organ in the church.  Since her hearing started to have difficulties, she only plays in the Sisters' chapel.

My grandfather was buried in Rot an der Rot, and although the grave is gone (they are only kept for 20 years) we visited the cemetery and sat in the funeral church.

I need to put in a big MMM for food in Oberschwaben.  They make wonderful roast, great schnitzel, lovely mixed salads, impressive tortes and superb spaetzle.  They were a favourite when I was growing up, my kids loved them, and now the grandchildren in both Canada and Sweden choose them for their special meals.  With a onion gravy, a mushroom cream sauce or cheese, they are fabulous!

And now I leave Germany and head for France, via Switzerland.