Like A Typical Sunday Should Be.

The one day a week to do less than nothing.

Who made it fashionable and desirable to be in a constant state of doing. Doing to be more, have more and be thought of as more... a never ending story and one that leads most of us into that nebulous neighbourhood called stress.

Often, the doing part is more for the world outside our four walls than for ourselves, although nowadays the two worlds have merged and solidly intertwined to incorporate the non-stop adventure park called social media. How can we unwind and simply be?

Sundays spent lazying about, following no rules, no plan and no dress code. Sundays spent reconnecting with our family. Sundays spent grazing all day until the yummy morsels are gone and Sundays spent rediscovering the joys of reading.

A pot luck Sunday. Even yesterday, Bob decided on the spur of the moment to imbibe in a professional breakfast at Aloisia's and with such a great idea he didn't need to do a lot of cajoling. Off we went and had a nice breakfast together ( sans tv or computer ) amid the breathtaking view of Badersdorf and its many undulating hills.

Our home should be our refuge from the office and not our office. A home should be a place to recharge, relax and chill without constantly worrying about making it shine like a proverbial castle.

Well, fortified with a delightful Sunday breakfast, a day spent doing hardly anything more strenuous than turning the page of a Deon Meyer novel, playing with the cat and the occasional forays into the kitchen has made the advent of Monday a rather gentle and nice start to this week.

Biggi

A Friday Morning At Work...

The view from work...

Taking a breather but only for a second to take this photo, made me realize how fortunate I am. Being part of the executive cleaning team of the Adixl is rather fun...

Strong, bold and portending a good vintage...

On the left of the Adixl, far left, are a few apple trees and somehow apples are a piece of continuity to life...we've eaten them as kids, as teenagers and are still eating them. Things around might change, but the apple is the same every harvest.

The straw is being baled early it seems, or the time between seasons just passes too quickly.

The vines a mere meter from the front door of the cottage are just the beginning of a great view. Hungary in the background and fields that ignite dreams in between.

A lone weed providing a comforting and awesome contrast to the row of vines. Made in Südburgenland...

Biggi

Life With Mausi, A Continuous Adventure.

The joys of rearing a well adjusted cat.

It was hot as blazes again yesterday and when I got home at five, Bob and Mausi were catching twenty winks on the bed. As I do tend to make a bit of noise hanging up keys, taking off shoes and so forth, the two of them awoke.

Both had that sleep induced daze and Bob deserved this nap as he'd spent 8 hours mowing the vineyards in the blatant heat, but Mausi takes liberties and sleeps as she sees fit which in her case means all day long. I came and sat down on the bed to have a chat and with my two Schatzis and of course the minute I sat down the one got up, heading for the kitchen.

A few moments later I heard the distinct crunching noise of somebody eating a fresh crisp. Someone was having a blast munching audibly on a few crisps.

" Oh my god, she's eating my crisps!!"

Bob was outraged but too tired to get up to see and it fell to me to investigate. La Mausi was sitting ( at least elegantly ) on the kitchen table having a blast crunching her way through Bob's bowl of crisps.

" Mausi, get down now. Where are your manners? Tables are off limits for you! "

Honestly, withing seconds she was off the table and on the chair, sitting like any child looking at me with those innocent eyes..

" Mommy, why can't I eat crisps when Daddy can ? "

Bob of course had taken this one step further and tried to remember how many crisps were left in the bowl before he went to lie down...clearly the princess has developed a taste for crisps and the mere opening sound of a packet of crisps will have her at your feet within seconds.

...innocent until proven guilty...

Biggi

Rescuing That Last Box Of Books.

A lucky find.

There is nary a week where not someone new moves to our village. A superb compliment to us Eisenbergers ( well I call myself one but in reality one has to have decades of life lived here to be afforded that luxury ) and often a chance to view our beautiful area through the prism of a fresh pair of adoring eyes.

This latest addition to swell the numbers have been once to ask Bob some connectivity question and the other afternoon they came to see if we wanted a spare door. Yes, you read right. Houses bought in our area are a lucky packet deal as everything and more is left behind from the owner before. Either due to him or her having moved to loftier realms or because it would have been too much of a bother to get rid of old furnishings and rubbish before moving on. I kid you not!

Even though our home still needs tender love and care, a door it needed not but as we were chatting I garnered that boxes of books from the previous owner had been thrown out. Now, here is where being a keen conversationalist comes in handy. A few years ago I had heard that this particular man whose house they've bought, had lived in America most of his life and only returned to Eisenberg for his retirement and sadly didn't have the pleasure of enjoying much of it. In Poirot like fashion I knew that his books would be written in English.

Lo and behold they were and one lone box of books was left over and I offered to take them off their hands. Almost like magic I received this last box of books yesterday. There are a few detective stories and thrillers and somehow I am quite sorry that I hadn't got to meet the man from America. We could have formed our own little book club. One book was a coffee book edition of parts of America and as I opened the cover another smaller book / pamphlet fell out.

A pictorial yearbook of a church community 1968-1969. Wow, I loved looking at the photos of yesteryear and wove various life stories to some of the photos. Knowing the man's surname I found his photo on page two. He and his whole family looking young and dapper. A moment in this family's history, a moment to be together and a moment gone in the blink of an eye. The excitement of being dolled up for a church photo without realizing how fast time goes...

Biggi

The Baby Marrows Have Outgrown Their Moniker.

A zucchini by any other name...

When our high bed first came into usage, Bob and his dad enthusiastically planted a collection of vegetable seeds and why not. Those tiny seeds, apart from the tomato bushes are quickly buried in the soil and one never ever imagines their eventual size. Gosh, we have a mini jungle in our front yard and people are starting to notice our gardening success.

Only because I know that the snakes slithering about in our bit of Burgenland have more likeness to an overgrown rain worm than any African snakes do I put my hands into this jungle never mind to walk between it. Bob is rather clever in delegating the watering of them to me. The stalks or should I say stems have got a prickly exterior and gloves would have been a good option. Did I mention that he also tries to delegate the weeding of it to me? Sometimes I listen...often I don't!

Those planted on the edge of the vegetable patch are affording us a glimpse underneath and the green jumbo sized baby marrow growing from it. Amazing really to think that all this germinated from a seed not bigger than a penny. You wouldn't believe the size of these vegetables and how tasty they are either as a soup, topping for a pizza or as a side dish.

So far our marrow jungle has yielded four huge marrows ( two we gave away and two we devoured ) and there seem to be many many more underneath. The other successful crop we've got ( except for a few tomatoes that didn't like it with us ) are cocktail tomatoes which seem to be as prolific in multiplying as the baby marrow.

Even though it looks like our marrows are on something, we haven't used any chemicals to further their life or any poison to banish their foes. Let's hope Bob doesn't get sick of eating marrows.

Despite photographing the baby marrow next to a basket of freshly picked cocktail tomatoes it looks not out of the ordinary...

Okay, that's more like it...my cellphone next to it.

Biggi

A Bucket Full Of Laughter.

Dear BBC, thank you so very much...

By pure chance I was flicking through the channels yesterday trying to evade programs that were bent on showing me how to shop, cook, find a husband, build a house, de-clutter or how to handle yourself in front of Judge Helt and out of habit switched to BBC Entertainment.

Usually they have an omnibus of Antique Roadshow ( also a firm favourite of mine and it won't be much longer before Bob and I will start scouring the neighbourhood for antiques ) but yesterday they aired a series whose name brought back wonderful memories. Keeping Up Appearances was next in line and I settled in to watch it.

The character of Mrs Bucket must be one of the best there is. How I laughed at her antics and pretense, her white gloves and her special china only for the social mavens. Bob had already returned from work and was reading in the other room. We both have a similar sense of humour but he chose to carry on reading, that is until he heard my screams of laughter.

Aren't we strange in that we like to share laughter? Nothing better than to laugh together and in that vain, I turned up the volume so that Bob could her the clear diction of Mrs Bucket. All it took was two lines and suddenly Bob came to the lounge to watch the program with me.

Both of us enjoyed this little sojourn down memory lane, especially the delightful British humour. One of a kind and addictive as anything. In one of the scenes, The Buckets were in their car driving and I am ashamed to mention it, but there were certain similarities between Hyacinth and me...She was pointing out the bus about to turn, the robot about to change to red and the close proximity of the ditch to her husband in case he hadn't seen any of these dangers.
Sorry Bob, I know I do the same, but only sometimes!

Laughter is the best medicine and thank goodness we have this BBC Entertainment channel because watching Keeping Up Appearances dubbed into German wouldn't be the same...

Biggi

Nature Is Food.

A bountiful summer indeed.

As lovely as they are to look at, they are even more divine when made into jam. A richly flavoured and coloured addition to any bread, cake or dare I say...vanilla ice cream.

The rows of vines are bursting with bunches of grapes and should make an abundant vintage. Although, in this photo the sky is a clear favourite.

The maize is almost grown and it bodes well for a few good suppers of corn on the cob with lashings of butter!

This little fellow has just eaten his fill of one of our tomatoes and looks too tired to do more than merely hang about...

It rained most of last night and the air is nicely chilled, the plants are thirsty no more and I don't have to haul five or six watering cans all over the garden.

A tomatoe salad is on the cards for sure...Nature, our friend and provider.

Biggi

Thank Goodness For A Bit Of Irish Humour.

Online review; saying things you often wouldn't have the guts to tell face to face.

Not saying that they are all like it, but I can pretty well imagine that the mere fact that it's something to do with emitting our online presence we use many props to make us shine.

When isn't it a case of making oneself look better than we are? Gosh, only through a dare do women concede to putting a make-up free face online otherwise it's a constant round of postings showing a life that is just so perfect and pretty!

Yes, the online business is many things, rarely though the whole truth and nothing but it. We all want to look good and if we are angry we want the world at large to sidle over to our point of view, and we don't hesitate to use a few props along the way.

Nowadays most hotels, B&B's and restaurants are at the mercy of being critiqued online, without really getting the chance to correct wrongs, improve food or drill staff. Reading reviews ( honestly, I hardly ever do ) can be a bit misleading and who's to say that a competitor has invented a fictitious stay gone wrong? Suddenly, a real case of fake news indeed.

Take the time to read the reply written by a hotel manager in Ireland, after he stumbled across a bad review from one of his hotel guests.

Doolin hotel manager's reply to a bad TripAdviser review.

Brilliant, worthy of making us think, and vitally, he gets to the heart of the matter...there are two sides to every story and my personal favourite is...

" Do not come to Doolin if Wi-Fi is more important to you than human interaction, you will be disappointed. "

Biggi

Kellerstoeckl, All Different Yet All Romantic.

If these walls could talk...

The Eisenberg Weinberg is becoming popular. I can tell by the amount of renovation and building that is going on. Scaffolding galore. Only last Sunday this one had scaffolding all around.

Scandinavia meets Burgenland? Still trying to figure out each Sunday ( yes, my Sunday route ) if this wooden cladding is temporary or the final coat? Nice view though.

A typical Kellerstock, romantic and idyllic to spend many a summer's eve with a glass of local wine in hand.

Stress, what stress? Honestly, there's not that much needed to have a good life...enough space for books and wine!

Even the empty and slightly derelict ones possess a certain amount of charm.

A touch of Greece...the clean white offset by the strong greens make this one of my favourite colour combinations.

Biggi

How Nice To Get Up Before The Sun Does.

Our household has a new routine.

Bob of course is worried that for the rest of his life his internal clock will ring for him before dawn or rather pre-pre-dawn, but it is merely for the summer and as soon as the days are getting shorter, our wake-up time will be following the first light. Today being Saturday, he thought we'd sleep in but we both woke up at half past three.

No, don't feel bad for us because it is a fantastic time to greet the day ahead. Everything is quiet, the sky is still cloaked with the remnants of night and apart from a buck defending his territory complete with his dears and the odd late-stayer at Stubit' s ( Buschenschank last night ) the stillness is immense and clear of all the noisy clutter a day brings.

Mausi as per usual fits in brilliantly with anything we do and has changed her sleeping patterns as well by starting to chase imaginary bugs at four in in the morning. Her perch on the open window only gets into prime time viewing territory after five.

This morning I sat on our front door step, sipping a strong cup of tea and taking note of our wonderful life. A blackbird was contemplating me and the speed with which I could reach it but only for a moment before I got put into the non-threatening category. It flew onto the lawn in front of me, pecked for a worm and then went on to have a mini fight with its mate.

For some reason I thought those two blackbirds had put on a skit for Mausi as she was uttering little cat cries distorted by her shivering in excitement at the show on hand. Gosh, those two birds chirped, flew in a twin spitfire spiral and pushed each other over the lawn all within centimeters of the open window which had our cat perched in it. But out of her line of sight, they were best friends again possibly congratulating each other at having driven Mausi mad.

A few hours into our blissful morning the sounds of a typical Saturday can be heard and felt. Life is a tad slower than on a weekday but busy nonetheless. Bob and I are driving to Oberwart today for a round of shopping and the funny thing is that even though we are ready and dressed, it is far too early as the shops only open at nine...

Biggi

The Place To Remember And Reflect.

All thanks to ' Kurven Gerti '...

Every village has a war memorial in honour of the fallen and it is treated with loving care and respect. Almost every morning sees me walk past it and at the moment the flowers are in bloom and make my soul smile when I see it.

Plain reds and yellows make this so eye-catching. Gerti who lives behind the memorial has been the one keeping it looked after. Lovely.

Strong, bold and refreshing.

Yes, I have photographed this particular memorial before but I think it deserves to be shown with each new season.

An instant cheer for anyone walking past.

Biggi

The Postman Always Rings Twice.

The most vital part of village life, the postman.

Most of the time I can set my watch to his rounds. Usually just after 1 pm and almost psychically I can predict whether it is a hand delivered letter or a drop in our postbox. Could be the squeaking of our gate and letter box...

Each area has a permanent postman who gets to know his charges rather well. When ours sees us in the faraway Metropolis of Oberwart he gives us a wave, even in civvies. Don't blame him as yellow doesn't suit everyone.

Certainly, he'd be au courant with most of everyone's goings on. In this case he does have to judge a book by its covers. Irritatingly enough, most embarrassing pieces of mail are marked for further humiliation with a bold stamp of affairs. Ah well, postmen know all.

Anyway, this morning I went with my parents to go and clean a few Kellerstöckls and as we drove back to our house ( well, I sat in the back seat very reminiscent of my teenage years ) I noticed the yellow postal cab already down the road. Gosh, he was frightfully early and after I'd been dropped off by my parents I automatically checked the postbox and was rewarded with a newspaper, a couple of coupons and a - While you were out there was a registered letter for you and you can collect it at the local shop at your convenience. -

Always exciting to get special mail but to get it I would have to go to the shop. Fleetingly I thought of driving down the road to catch the postman but before I could, there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, there was our postman:

" Oh, how nice! Sorry I missed you the first time but I was out with my parents."

" Yes, I saw all of you driving passed just know and thought I'd try again to save you the bother of going to the shop. "

Two things, no actually three things; Wow, how nice, wow, we live in a town where everyone knows our car ( even those once removed ) and lastly, Mausi was well behaved and didn't bolt out the door as I was thanking our postman.

Again, village life at its best...

Biggi

The Social Side To Gardening On The Outside Of Our Garden.

The hedge, a never ending story...

It was a little piece left to do or rather to chop into shape and apart from two totally different sized shears ( hedge shears and gardening scissors ) I had to wheel the ever so useful wheelbarrow to my post at the top of our garden. The sun was thankfully hidden by the height of our hedge and for most of the hour I could work shrouded in shade. A new house is being built down the road and every time I stepped back to check on the evenness of my cutting I had to keep an eye out for cement trucks and their ilk.

Cars idled passed, some drivers stopped to praise my effort and some had a quick glance at my work. Thankfully they only got a glimpse although they might drive that route again to see the result. Called a village drive-bye and even Bob and I have done one or two. One lady walked passed on crutches ( in fact she walks a few kilometers everyday with them and should put paid to any and all excuse we keep coming up with to do some exercise ) and stopped to have a few words with me.

The weather, health and neighbours were top of the list and in fact the only items on the list despite world events being fascinating but those three topics are more interesting when living in a village. Happenstance encounters are where I garner a lot of village tidbits.

At one stage a stranger's car ( we all know who drives which car ) parked outside our neighbour and it turned out to be a handyman clocking in for the day. His ladders and tools gave him away. Naturally I couldn't help overhearing his conversation on arrival and noticed he spoke with a Swiss twang while he told the lady with her crutches on her way to visit her friend, that he was a man for everything.

A sort of 007 of the builder's trade, how marvelous. Without hesitation I approached him to ask for his number. He must be a godsend to elderly ladies living on their own who have difficulty with mowing the lawn, painting the house, fixing a drainpipe or eating a whole cake on their own.

I did have a little chuckle to myself as only a few minutes into his work, my neighbour came outside and asked him if he wanted anything to eat or drink...reminded me a lot of those delightful Agatha Christie novels. Rural life, a blissful life.

Biggi

A Foal, Two Horses And A Deer.

Rural living at its best...

Early bird catches a deer. Walking just after sunrise is the perfect time to spot them. At first one only hears the heavy rustling of leaves followed by the swisch-sound of their graceful departure.

Along the village road one of the farm houses has the most adorable lodgers. Often the two Haflinger horses are seen being walked by their owners around the village greens and nobody had an inkling that the mare's expanding girth was not the result of constant grazing...A four week old foal, cute as a button and being male, a touch of obstinacy is inherent.

Standing between his parents, one noticed that he was rather naughty. Here he's trying to chew through the lead hanging off his father's halter.

Another classic toddler behaviour. He refused to go along for a walk and after a few moments of pulling to all her might, his carer had to turn tack and go his way. Too cute to watch.

This morning I again managed a glimpse of them. Here he's showing off a rather nice gait. I think I had to wait patiently for five minutes while he finished his grazing.

As young as he is, he has a classy posture and promises to keep his owners on their toes. What a beautiful scene to look upon. Loved it.

Biggi

Our Cat, The Purrfect Time Keeper.

The hidden pleasures of owning a cat.

Since the start of May, Bob and I have a routine of getting up at a quarter to four weekdays in order for Bob to get to work. Nothing wrong with that during summer and in any case, we adjusted our timetable accordingly. The dinner countdown ( pre-dinner glass of wine etc ) starts an hour earlier.

Despite finding the extra time during the day nice and often thinking of how much more one can achieve with it, we do enjoy Saturdays and Sundays, days we can sleep in...or should it be could sleep in?

In preparation for sleeping late on those mornings ( seven or eight'ish ) we live it up on the evenings before and watch the eight o'clock movie until it's finished! Even our dinners are pushed back just because it's weekend. Well, last weekend yours truly was in deep trouble because I had forgotten to switch off the alarm clock and Sunday morning saw us awake at 3.45 am. As you can imagine I was not Bob's favourite gal...

As one learns from mistakes I now religiously attend to setting the alarm clock but, we forgot about our industrious little Mausi. Cats, are the best instinctive timekeepers. Feeding times are imprinted on their brain and it seems that now, rising times are as well.

Only this last Saturday at 3.50, our princess couldn't handle the snores coming from the bed and with ease jumped up next to Bob's pillow and proceeded to purr and nudge his head until he was awake. He grumbled for a bit but honestly, there's not much Mausi can do that he wouldn't forgive...

...well, truthfully when she repeated the above early wake up call yesterday morning, Bob was a tad bit cross, cross enough to shut her out the bedroom last night which resulted in her sulking and not looking at him all morning. Of course, he chose the wrong day as we had to get up at a quarter to four in any case. Let's see what next weekend will bring...

One can't be cross with such a cute thing....

Biggi

Elizabeth Gaskell Quotes.

I've discovered a new novelist...

" In a few minutes tea was brought. Very delicate was the china, very old the plate, very thin the bread-and-butter, and very small the lumps of sugar. Sugar was evidently Mrs Jamieson's favourite economy. "
Cranford

" All sorts of thoughts cross one's mind - it depends on whether one gives them harbour and encouragement. "
'Wives and Daughters'... Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell ( 1810-1865 )

" But I was right. I think that must be an hereditary quality, for my father says he's scarcely ever wrong. "
'Cranford'...Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell ( 1810-1865 )

" In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the holders of houses, above a certain rent, are women. If a married couple come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on a railroad. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are not at Cranford. "
'Cranford'...Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell ( 1810-1865 )

" My next visit to Cranford was in the summer. There had been neither birth, deaths, nor marriages since I was there last. Everybody lived in the same house, and wore pretty nearly the same well-preserved old-fashioned clothes. The greatest event was, that the Miss Jenkynses had purchased a new carpet for the drawing-room. Oh, the busy work Miss Matty and I had in chasing the sunbeams, as they fell in an afternoon right down on this carpet through the blindless window! We spread newspapers over the places, and sat down to our book or our work; and lo! in a quarter of an hour the sun had moved, and was blazing aaway on a fresh spot; and down again we went on our knees to alter the position of the newspapers. We were very busy, too, one whole morning, before Miss Jenkyns gave her party, in following her directions, and in cutting out and stitching together pieces of newspapers so as to form little paths to every chair set for the expected visitors, lest their shoes might dirty or defile the purity of the carpet. Do you make paper paths for every guest to walk upon in London? "
'Cranford'...Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell ( 1810-1865 )

Biggi

Milk Mustache, Spinach Precariously Stuck On A Tooth & Loopaper Enjoying The Groove Of Your Shoe.

Does anyone still tell?

Both Bob and I drink a sort of protein health drink every day. Bob to replenish his energy after a long day in the vineyards and I to help keep facial gravity at bay. This powder ( hemp, the lesser cousin of... ) is green and fluffy with a tendency to stick to the edge of the glass...and surprisingly gives oodles of oompf.

About an hour after drinking mine yesterday afternoon, I got up to go to the bathroom and as I glanced in the mirror I noticed that half my nose was covered in green hemp. Realistically, after over a decade together it is a bit much to expect Bob to look at me most of the time....or he looked and didn't tell me?

Often, in social settings it can be a bit tricky and require muchos tact to mention an out of place food item. Even before you mention a piece of spinach, an obvious new nasal resident or a skirt stuck on the wrong side of a pantyhose, you know the other person will flame up in embarrassment. Who wouldn't?

Admittedly, there have been times where I, instead of mentioning any aesthetic mishap, merely averted my eyes from the offending particle and continued a conversation hoping that nobody new would come along and let the cat out of the bag. Never mind that once the person would look in the mirror they'd know...but a few times I've been brave and upfront.

The other non verbal hint would be to rub one's nose, pick one's teeth or pointedly look at the bottom of one's shoes to drop a hint. Sometimes a nose is just itchy and it becomes rather comical when the person we're talking to immediately assumes that you are dropping clues and takes out a tissue just in case...Aren't we all a funny lot?

Biggi

My Encounter With A Voice Activation Helpline.

Just goes to show it's not what you say but how you say it...

Helping an elderly couple to change a debit order payment to an invoice being sent, is what started my adventures with a helpline. Easy as pie I thought. How hard could it be other than phoning the company in question and asking them to change the payment method.

High tech for me is using the touch button system 1 for this, 2 for that and often I forget the number coding after the first few and have to start again. What I didn't imagine in my wildest dreams was having to use my voice to get put onto the correct department. Futuristic indeed, as I've never had the pleasure of listening to any other voice giving direction in the car except Bob's so a mechanical soprano was new to me.

Filled with courage I said ( and I thought I enunciated clearly but perhaps with too much of a Bavarian intonation ) :

" Invoice "

to which a female voice replied;

" You want to close your account? "

Suffice it to say that I tried that route three more times with always the same result and I am not sure if ' she ' got exasperated with me or whether I touched a magic button, but all of a sudden a voice rehashed the menu corresponding to the buttons to be pressed.

As you might have gathered I am not fond of all those newfangled technological advances but with a population skewed towards the over 60's, companies should look into using old fashioned face to face or rather person to person communication. Not everyone has instant email on hand, scanning equipment, a clear voice or even the will to spend hours on the phone awaiting one's turn in the queue only to be bumped to the end of the line due to a misshaped vowel...

Biggi

Wildflowers Lining The Road.

A cheerful addition to any curb.

It might not look like it, but these bevy of beauties are next to the main road between Eisenberg and Deutsch Schützen. Doesn't the Eisenberg look grand?

The wind was gently blowing away and creating a movement on the outskirts of Eisenberg!

Not quite a wildflower but a wild-rabbit...some never see any rabbits but I get to see two to three most days. A lovely poser, isn't he?

This photo required me to sit on my haunches to get this view and I hate to think what some passing motorists thought I was doing...

White flowers ( or are they weeds ) are wherever one tends to glance. A refreshing image.

The wild bunch...

Biggi

Village Living 2.0..

Even the younger lot want a less stressful life.

In my opinion and even Bob laughs at it ( and me for my naivete ), the future of little villages is set. Already one can notice how empty houses are being snapped up and not only by wealthy retirees.

Life in a city for the younger lot is of course all that's looked for but soon enough, many will realize how much effort it takes to fund a city lifestyle. Be it the stop at a coffee emporium ( when a perfectly good coffee can be had cheaply at home ), the lures planted by clothing companies in shop windows, concerts or restaurants.

All that costs money and apart from a minority of big earners, working seems to only cover the essentials and even those are outrageously expensive. Case in point, the high rentals and the low availability of living space.

Everyone keeps saying that there are no jobs in a village and perhaps for the moment they are right, but villages aren't that for away from the city environs for commuting. Of course what most forget is that technology is changing and developing so quickly, that soon all one needs to work is a fast internet connection. And, many clever mayors of small villages are putting in fiber optic cables.

It used to be that a profession learnt after school was a profession for life. No longer does that hold true. How many of us have switched course a few years in, out of necessity or just because?

A lot of the younger generation are realizing that downsizing to a life in a village has many benefits the uppermost being a gentler pace of life. Working endless hours to fund a city lifestyle isn't good for health, relationships or kids. A childhood spent in a village is utopia for kids and ironically might form a strength of character that is needed to live a happy life anywhere.

The only sad fact that is already happening when folks move here, is that they eschew the delightfully charming ( farm ) houses of yesteryear and build modern ones, but at least they are moving here.

Don't forget, this is only my opinion...

Biggi

Some Of The Reasons I Love To Walk.

Makes treadmills redundant.

There is vibrancy about and despite a slightly overcast sky these mauve beauties knew how to pose.

The green of the vines sets a definite marker for any captured scenery. In the background are some of the marvels of Deutsch Schützen.

My own little supporters on the side of the road cheering me along...

Apples are almost ripe and could set the tone for many an apple cake...

The final curve towards Eisenberg, signalling the end of my walk...and the start of breakfast.

A real treat to imbibe nature's collage daily.

Until late yesterday evening wheat was harvested and the sound of harvesters trumped all else. This morning some of the leftover kernels were making a few paths look golden.

Biggi

A Slow Monday.

Just what's needed...

The mauve is hypnotic.

The white sets a nice contrast

Strong, bold and refreshing.

Rabbits are hopping in fields everywhere and at one stage this lot hopped towards us until they turned and ran from us. We saw this lot and more early morning on our walk.

Most of the wheat fields have been harvested and now the bales of gold are lying in neat rows. Lovely to see.

The spotty lot is so stunning to see against the white of the wall and creates instant happiness...

Biggi