A Nice And Gentle Monday Morning.

 Village life...

Early, before the sun was even up I, sorry we, ran into an energetic and dapper octogenarian. He was dressed for the day going for his walk, whereas Maxi and I were mere minutes out of bed. A sight indeed.

We shot the breeze for a bit and then headed off into our separate directions. Fast forward an hour and a half...I had just come back from my solo walk and was turning into our street when I happened to pass the same man yet again. Only this time he was coming from the other direction.

    " Gosh, have you walked all this time? "

" Yes, I went to Deutsch-Schützen and back. Isn't it wonderful to be able to walk? "

What a fabulous person. He must have walked close close to 6 kilometres and to be honest, he didn't even look as though he had broken a sweat. As he told me; 

                                        " Wer rastet, der rostet / who rests rusts. "

Well, an inspirational start to the week indeed.

Later in the afternoon I took the boy yet again for his round and ran into a couple of our neighbours with their toddlers in tow. Gosh, at the top of my head I can think of at least 10 babies that were born this last year, on our block! What is happening? That is a Kindergarten class ready made!

As one does, I stopped to catch up on the latest news. There has been a lone walker, with crutches, backbrace and built up shoes which we didn't know how he featured into Eisenberg. Well, no longer. It turns out he the son of one of the Eisenbergers who is recuperating from an accident.

While I was standing there, one of the young mothers was fiddling with her top, a top that had a touch of maternity about it. I wasn't sure as nowadays these tops are trendy regardless if one is in the family way. It was a delicate moment which I chose to handle diplomatically by not asking if she was expecting. God forbid she had put on weight the normal way! Never mind though, the town crier will soon let me know if baby #11 is on the way...

Biggi

The New Gardener.

 Week one done!

Those who know me are quite aware that gardening isn't my hobby of choice and if nothing else, the smorgasbord of weeds in our garden bear proof of this. Never mind, Rome wasn't built in a day either.

Last week I got started on cutting back our hedge that faces the road. A long hedge, at least a hundred meters long and wild and woolly. No more. Each day I used the last two hours of the crisp mornings ( from 7-9 ) and cut this hedge. By hand with secateurs. Great workout, great individualism for the hedge. Granted, the bits I started with are a tad bit more tidy than those I ended with, but after a good hour of using the various tools to sort out hedges as well as many trips with the wheel barrow to discard of the cuttings, it isn't a surprise.

So, today was the last section and the most difficult. There were big chunky twigs slightly resembling branches that needed to be cut out. Cut out I did, and there are now some sections in our hedge where a football could quite easily fly through. Can't be helped and within a few days leaves will have covered the odd handmade gaps.

The last bit borders onto our new neighbours ( well they moved in about two years ago but are very aloof and often ignore Bob's greeting from our side of the garden ) and I could feel beady eyes watching me through the open window daring me to go a step beyond what looks nice! Why she couldn't come out and say hi, is one of those mysteries but then again, it helped me to sculpt a bit more than needed from her view. See how she likes that! I know, slightly petty but then, after two hours of slogging it out, I couldn't really care. Anyway, it does look okay and much more authentic than all those uniform hedges around which have been seen to by electric sheers. The boring uniform hedge look...

As much as I tend to grumble, I did enjoy these last few days of gardening and felt a sense of achievement. A few other neighbours stopped and talked to me during this week, praising my effort which felt nice but I had to reign in their enthusiastic praise;

            " Thanks, but I might not do a lot more in our garden for ages,

               or I might get stuck in and carry on. Only time will tell. "

Biggi

The Backyard Pools Are Awash With People.

 Happy Sounds.

You'd think that most of the people living around us have moved up in live, the rate at which those backyard pools are sprouting out of  lawns. Sadly not those nice ones common to the southern hemisphere, you know the ones that are actually flush with the ground and permanent. There is an elegance about those which by no stretch of the imagination could be said about these backyard sprouters.

Big basins of water squatting next to fences doing nothing for the aesthetics of yards. Oh well, I am just glad I don't have to empty and dissemble them once summer is finished.  I bet many a husband is looking forward to that bit of domestic chore!

So I was taking Mr Maxi for his afternoon rounds ( he knows where he wants to be seen and where not, putting on brakes to make me change course ) when all I could hear was the sound of kids playing in their pools. Happy sounds. I could really hear that emotion of joy, joy that the summer holidays are here, that the days are long and that they could escape the dreaded heat for a while diving and swimming in a pool.

One sensible mother was treading water at the edge of the pool and looked like she was sipping a glass of cold crisp wine. Yes, I did say that most pools are near the edge of the fence and one can't help but be a witness to all these happenings. Honestly, why put a pool so close to the road and prying eyes unless...a show of financial prowess? A bit of social media in a real life setting...

The heat wave has shown no inclination to break or move somewhere else and makes doing anything a bit bothersome...unless it is sitting in a nice cold pool.

Biggi

The Quaint Sub-Plots Of Small Village Life.

 Life wouldn't be the same without them...

Look, sub-plots abound around us. Not discounting the avian wing that constantly performs one opera after the other, life in a small village simply lends itself for quaintness and unique characteristics.

Take this morning for example. There I was coming back from a long walk when I noticed a car idling halfway around the corner of the road next to our house. Yes, basically in the middle the road, half in and out of the bend nicely blocking any and all traffic. Not that there is that much apart from the huge cement trucks for the construction down the road-not much of a challenge and somehow makes me think that this chap hadn't thought through his choice of road for idling. 

Well, the reason he was idling was that he was chatting to a friend who happened to be walking by. Nothing like rolling down your window and shooting the breeze for the next ten minutes. Couldn't help but notice as they chose to chinwag right outside our house.

As I was turning into our gate the one chap opined that I was rather late coming home from my walk! Ah, keeping track, isn't he...

Another lovely little quaint line in today's plot was the fact that halfway into my walk, as I was turning the corner, I stumbled onto my husband loading up his work van. Nice surprise and luckily for him he looked pleased to see me too. No, no, hardly stopped my stride to say hello and thankfully so because his work mates drove up at exactly the same moment. Imagine if they'd seen us hugging and kissing? Bob wouldn't live that down...

Living in a big city often equates to those divine quaint little human asides being overpowered by  the sheer enormity of navigating the physical, emotional and environmental aspects of living in a city. Look, not everyone would and could enjoy life in a small village but for me it has meant the luxury of having time and the opportunity to take note of the lovely sub-plots of this aria called life.

Biggi

A Monday Complete With Lumberjacks, Power-cuts & Sunshine.

 A busy Monday.

They came last week to ask whether they could go ahead and trim those trees in our back garden which are within touching distance of the electricity cables. You know, I almost hugged them because getting these tall trees trimmed is far from easy nor cheap. Thankfully our electricity provider has a revolving team of lumberjacks who travel the villages looking for stroppy and out of control trees.

As we had two power-cuts scheduled for today they chose it to have less danger from being electrified by the wires. Yikes, won't look until they are finished!

Power-cuts are becoming a habit lately. Here in Eisenberg as well as in Deutsch Schützen. A proverbial building boom has descended onto our area. Two major holiday establishments and at least three new houses for the returning youngens. A real bonus for our villages if the younger generation comes back home to settle down after a whirlwind time in Vienna, Graz or Oberwart.

Mostly the gals are pregnant and that is a good reason to settle back home where raising a child is much easier, cheaper and has a better support structure. Don't know how happy the prospective grandparents will be about their permanent baby sitting duties! No riding off into the retirement sunset on a Harley for them!

As the younger generation all know each other it comes as no surprise that they follow each other's lead. Be it about settling back home or about building big mansions. I suppose at that age one wants to impress and build big and wouldn't ever want to move back into a section of their parents' huge houses. Yes, they too built big back when they were young in the hope that when their kids were grown up they would stay and make their lives out of the collective home. 

Sadly not so. There are oodles of huge houses ( often multi-storied in the hope of the various generations living together ) in our villages in which  middle aged couples bemoan their folly. A big house that they only use a tenth of, a big house that constantly needs cleaning and a big house that needs a lot of heating. What I find the saddest part is that this pattern is repeating itself. The house being built at the moment are much too big for even a small family of four. Oh well, each to their own in that regard.

Sunshine has blessed us today despite a more than freezing morning and it does wonders for the soul. Personally I think that winter is almost done but Bob isn't so sure. Let's see what the next few months will bring. Regardless of the weather though, life is a privilege and fabulous.

Biggi

When Sissy Turned Into Lilly.

 A funny morning encounter along the Eisenberg Boulevard.

This week it seems that reminders of warmer times ahead are being beamed to us. The snow has melted into the soil, the sun must have been tired of hiding away and a few more locals were out and about early this morning.

 I only decide upon my route once I have trod on the road's surface. Today for example, despite it being warmer there were parts of the road ( the shady part not to be confused with the shady part of town!!! ) covered in tricky and treacherous bits of ice. A detour along the Pinka was called for. A most magical walk in itself. Fields and deer as far as the eye can see.

Most days, depending upon where I walk, I meet different people although, some days none at all. Twitchy curtains don't count. Today I met my first fellow villager on the back path towards Eisenberg's church and sadly he hastened along still frightened of me because I mentioned in November that I had been afflicted with corona. Can't blame him. Did keep a two meter distance when we passed and also pulled my scarf over my face. Oh well, perhaps once his's been vaccinated he'll revert to his old friendly self.

When I walked up to the cemetery ( have to pass it to get home ) I notice another local finishing up the watering of bits on the family grave. He came out of the gate the same time I passed and we exchanged a friendly greeting-yes,yes, from a safe distance- while his dog came rushing toward me with happy expectations of a tummy rub. 

               " Oh look at you, Lilly. Aren't you the sweetest? " ...at least a minute's worth of tummy rub and endearments ensued. Lilly seems to have taken a shine to me - her owner told me so - and quite rightly so because once or twice I have brought her back home when she decided to investigate the main road. I am sure she remembered or else I have a friendly aura.

The three of us walked a short while together and exchanged the latest on-dits. Always a source of entertainment and information. When I decided that it was time to head off on my own I said my goodbyes and also made a point of addressing Lilly by name. She was happy to be singled out  and made a fuss of and with that in mind I took off. 

About two minutes later it hit me. I have done what old aunts and uncles do the world over... I had invented a new name for her. This was Sissy and not Lilly. Very tactfully her owner hadn't corrected me but honestly, perhaps he didn't hear me either...Memory and hearing, a sign of the passing of time.

Biggi

October Already!

 Not much longer till Christmas.

The days just keep running into and alongside each other culminating in today, the first of October. Who would have thought that time could go so fast? Just the other day it was the beginning of March, June or August. 

Bob asked me to pick up his eye-drops at our local doctor's and with the new corona measures, it has become rather a planned task and no more a spur of the moment  drop in.  Following their new rules ( big segment in our local newspaper about how and even when to visit our local doc ) I phoned ahead for an appointment or rather an appointed time to collect the eye-drops but was told I could come whenever it suited me. Great.

As luck would have it the road outside our driveway is being picked apart to put a new pipe in it.  Thankfully the young men working outside our driveway were kind enough to let me know that it would be better if I moved the car outside. Finding a parking spot in our road was quite daunting as it is plastered with work vehicles and other neighbour's cars. But, I managed eventually.

Arriving at the doctor's was rather strange. Normally it is a hive of social activity with oodles of locals sitting about complaining about hips, knees, daughter-in-laws and the odd politician whilst waiting to see the doctor. Social nearness wouldn't be a misnomer, whereas now, today, it was devoid of people except a lone person sitting in the waiting room and another standing outside awaiting her turn. Yikes, social distancing in force.

Hard to catch up on the juicy bits of village news that only a sojourn at the doctor's waiting room could bring about. Where was everyone and why are so few people sick nowadays?  Well, it is nice that not many are and perhaps, all joking aside, the whole periphanalia of a doctor's visit is even more important and helps more in getting well than the actual trip into the rooms. 

Anyway, October is here and November is near. Life is good and there to be lived...so let's live it.

Best Informed On Local News.

 No need to read the news.

I can't remember a time where news of all sorts was so prolific and frankly also frightening. Corona, wildfires, wars and recession tend to circle constantly. Often best to switch off except when it comes to real local news...

The end of last week saw a horror scenario come to life. Yes, the first confirmed corona case in our village. Yikes, it didn't make for a good weekend as the mind wandered and spun its various threads of interpretations...as it tends to do.

This particular news was published in a local newspaper and online ( so definitely not hear-say ) but after the initial bombshell nothing further was published. Too soon, too much  or nothing to tell? Those of you who have had the fortune of having lived in a small place know the best way to find out anything...

Without being too obvious, or plain nosy, the best source is of course the local shop but only if there happens to be a gathering of locals exchanging info. Outright questions never gets a good answer but being on the peripheral of a gathering will lead to a lot of info, in fact local info overload. Who was where, with whom and when!

Most mornings on my walk I meet one or two villagers and exchange a quick greeting whilst passing them but naturally, since this corona bombshell everyone takes the time to stop and chat about  this local corona drama. And drama it is! Yesterday I heard of those who were tested and awaiting results and this morning I heard about those results. It seems that luck is on our side as nobody else seems to have contracted the virus.

The beauty of having a village chat is that it never is cut and dried. No, it can navigate many bends and turns to get to the real meat of the story but those bends and turns are really the lifeblood of village life. Only this morning I found out where to get   running shoes with custom made insoles ( at no extra cost ), where to donate money and who is on the mend after a short illness. Those tidbits are rather priceless when it comes to village life and they are never published anywhere but available whenever we take the time to stop and have a chat...

Biggi

Another Funeral Is Had.

Unfortunately it has been a busy season.

Coming back from my walk I heard what was clearly a conversation between women somewhere along the street. Oddly enough I didn't see anyone and just assumed that my antenna had picked up a conversation from someone's lounge. Happens more often than not as most of the houses are build close to the road. A few moments later I saw the source...a couple of older ladies, neighbours, where walking down the road dressed in black. Yes, clearly on the way to a funeral.

As I walked past, one of the ladies hurriedly turned back towards her house because she had forgotten her mask. Yeah, at least masks are worn. A few steps later I saw her doubling over. Yikes, thinking that she was hurt I rushed to help but it only turned out to be a missing coin. While looking for her house key, she had dropped the coin in her hand and at a certain age one doesn't kneel on the ground to look for stuff but bends over at the waist.

A most important coin as halfway through any service a church elder walks around with the collection basket and everyone's ear is tuned to the sound of coins dropping upon other coins! Believe me, I have at times forgotten to bring some coins and have felt the weight of raised eyebrows. The two of us tried to find the missing euro but to no avail. Thankfully it was just a dropped coin and nothing more serious. One never knows.

Isn't it ironic that funerals are places to meet friends and family? A place to get together obviously to pay homage to the person departed but also a place to remember those convergence points where your life had crossed theirs. Funerals are great reminders of the fragility of life and even though we all feel invincible, we really aren't.

The local priest usually ends his prayer at the grave site with a blessing for the next person among the mourners to knock on heaven's door. Markab, isn't it? The first time I heard it I nearly had a heart attack...nice way to put the fear of god into your parishioners and make sure the pews are filled. Every time I go to a local funeral I make sure to blend out this final priestly message.

Funerals despite their sad meaning are surprisingly life affirming for the ones who attend. Many a vow to enjoy life and slow down the madness of a hectic life are made and hopefully upheld.

Biggi

T.G.I.F.

...and not a day to soon...

For some reason this week seemed extremely long and tiresome despite having a couple of days off in the beginning of it. Or because of it. Getting back into a work rhythm isn't so easy especially when coupled with extreme temperatures.

Anyway, Friday is here and thank god for it. Bob is glad too and at the moment his work week continues with a nice staff lunch to celebrate his boss's birthday. Only a few moments ago he came home for a quick shower and change out of his work togs. Due to having to do some extra work he was running more than fashionably late, but took extraordinary amounts ( to my mind! ) of time to find the right colour pen in order to label the present while I was getting stressed for him;

" Schatzi, I usually love you dearly but right now...! It doesn't matter what colour you use!!! "

Don't we all have those marital moments?

When I went to the shop for deliveries a moment ago, I had a little chuckle to myself. Well, a chuckle and a shiver! The chuckle was due to a whole bunch of young guys standing in a long line ( social distancing on the go ) waiting to pay and one of them had not put on a mask. Gosh, did they point the error of his ways out to him. Hope he learnt his lesson...But, my faith in youth is restored!

As to the shiver...don't know how to describe it really. There is a local man in his fifties who is almost as tall as he is wide. Well not quite, but hefty he is and there is the rub. He persists in going top-less to the shop. Just his shorts ( thank the lord they are Bermuda ones ) and nothing else. Honestly, I don't know where to walk and or where to look. Masks and shirts should be a given. Village life, got to love it!

All in all, this Friday is not too bad despite the week having been long. All is set for our short holiday, a.k.a. the weekend and the many adventures it might bring...

Biggi

Flower Schedule.

Another sign of trust?

Last year I managed to get my name onto the Make Eisenberg's Gardens Beautiful Club list and had two separate weeks to prove my worth. Simple tasks only. Keeping flowers alive by giving them ample water for each day. Quite daunting when you know my track record of keeping flowers alive. But, alive and thriving they were.

Somehow despite living so central in such a small village, I never got any feedback about my help so I took it to mean that I perhaps didn't pass muster...au contraire! A new list has mysteriously appeared in our post box with my name on it. Granted, they still misspell it but hey, I know they meant me.

Another two weeks under my tutelage for a new lot of flowers and plants. They will have to bloom to my begging and shine for all and sundry driving past in order to be admired. Yes, I do talk to them and thought that during my weekly stints they looked more alive than normal. Delusional or not, but bloom they did.

Tomorrow is my first day and as luck would have it, the weather has aided and abetted me in my labours. It has been raining on and off all day today and by what Bob tells me, it might be the same tomorrow. No watering required but I think I will walk past my new flower class and introduce myself...

Biggi

Facial Eloquence.

The simplicity of life.

Often it is the unexpected that makes an impression. Take yesterday for example; I was about to drive off from the local shop, waiting for oncoming traffic ( here it is mostly only the one car or the bus see-sawing between Güssing and Oberwart driven by our neighbour ) when a friend drove past. She didn't see me but she and her car made an impression on me.

Life isn't always as groovy as we'd want it to be and the odd touch of melancholy can wiggle its way in. So there I was awaiting my chance to turn into the road when I saw a red car with a most amazing passenger drive past. The passenger was in the backseat with his head out the window, blonde mane emulating a BeeGee's style blow-wave, tongue casually stuck out coupled with a carefree and happy expression. Wow, what a sight.

I could swear that I actually saw him grinning at the sheer pleasure of driving with his head out the window, catching flies and bits of the neighbourhood. Instantly everything shifted back into normal for me again. No more melancholy. If he could find such sheer and utter happiness by sticking his head out of a car window whilst it was driving ( I wish you could have seen his blissful expression ), then there was nothing standing in the way for me to find those little seemingly unimportant things which really add up to be life changing buttons in our dashboard of life.

The mane I do have, and it might just flick back in that famous 70's do if I were to stick my head out of a moving car window, but I leave that to the professionals, in my case a most wonderful, loving and loyal Labrador who enjoys nothing more than going for a ride with his owner...Dogs, men's best friend and in my case, a great teacher of life's lessons.

Biggi

Our Village Is Starting To Get Fit.

A popular route.

Solitude is slipping away on one of my favourite walking routes. It has been discovered or should I say re-discovered by some locals. A perfect walk with nary a hill to be seen when the shortened version is taken, loads of open fields and the odd entertaining troupe of deer quivering on the sidelines ready to hop to safety.

Naturally I am thrilled that more and more early morning walkers are making use of our absolutely stunning array of walks if for no other reason as not to be classified as that crazy gal walking all year round. I think I rank only slightly below our other year round outdoor fanatic...the runner.

Running into people along any of the walks is not a bad thing as it gives one a chance to exchange a few words more often then not about the state of the weather, the cuteness of a dog or the beauty of our environment.

My personal favourite route has now grown to at least five other walkers using it regularly. Not everyone starts at the same end thus we can avoid those slightly awkward situations where one doesn't know whether to join them or find a higher gear and motor past. Morning walks are a great way to center one's thoughts and prepare for the day ahead and in this stillness have an opportunity to appreciate Mother Nature.

Spring and summer could tempt more villagers from the safe environs of their comfortable homes in order to venture out into our picturesque surrounds, thereby ensuring a healthy future. Regular walkers have the edge on lounge lizards, not forgetting that healthy outdoor glow that many would pay a fortune for...

Biggi

The Keen Observations Of The Twitchy Curtain Brigade.

Also known as the neighbourhood watch!

For the want of a roadside kitchen window seat I would be part of this neighbourhood set without a doubt. Curiousity is a spice of life...

Yesterday I was spending a few hours with one of the older Eisenbergers down the road and as most seasoned villagers she has her kitchen table placed right next to a huge window, one that faces the road. Nothing and I mean nothing escapes her eagle eyes. Not in a mean sort of way but more as a means to keep abreast of our neighbourhood's going ons. You would be surprised what one can glean from a couple going for a walk, a car returning at odd times and a tractor idling past.

For her it is second nature to look out of her window when she hears anyone or anything passing ( her window is permanently open ) even going so far as to stop conversation. I am well used to it and also to rekindling the thread of conversation where we had left off. Of course at times it gets circumvented by a new thread...

" Oh, do you know who this was? "

even if I did, I plead ignorance as I am well aware of the in-depth questioning about that person's life, lifestyle and family I would be in for. Look, for those of a certain age, little tidbits about people are what makes their life more enjoyable, but have you ever been on the receiving end of an elderly person's questioning? They don't stop until the last bit of info has been shared and as I have found out, any knowledge shared is keenly questioned about how I came to know it and that is why its easier to at times keep quiet!

The plus side to her gathering all those interesting tidbits and sightings is that she is a font of local information going back have a century. I love it when she sees someone walk past her window and she dives into her immense store of local knowledge, telling me about that person's parents or grandparents and who lived in their house before they did. Ah, don't you just love conversation...

Biggi

A True Summer Kitchen.

Discovering more about old customs.

Bob and I have somehow always called it our Summer Kitchen and perhaps we heard it referred to as such or we got a sense that it was one. Look, there isn't any running water nor electricity but of course that was where our useful aga like stove came from. We rescued it from this tiny building albeit one with a seasoned chimney attached and transplanted it into our kitchen.

As much as we tend to grumble when we do use it ( the wood needs to be fed every twenty minutes or so ) we have gotten a lot of use out of it. Just today I was visiting a neighbour and as often happens, another neighbour came as well and we had a nice long conversation about this that and the old ways.

In winter talk usually skirts the topic of heating and that was when I told about our oven. Not our main source of heating but a nice backup. A backup that helped us dry out our house once we had plastered and laid new floors. So easy to forget what a marvelous work-horse it turned out to be.

Well, it so happens that back in the day the Summer Kitchen was exactly that. During the summer months, when everyone was busy toiling in vineyards, fields or stables they would come home for lunch, a lunch made and eaten in this Summer Kitchen. Usually small as can be but still big enough to somehow accommodate the whole family for lunch.

The reason being and which I find so amusing because similar has happened all over the world, was that one didn't want the house to get dirty from all the clumps of dirt stuck to shoes etc. And here comes the clincher and proof that we are all the same;

the house was kept clean and tidy just in case a visitor decided to drop by!

Ah, how many have a second lounge they never use except for when important family or friends come over for a cup of tea...and sadly, it is often the most amazing room of the house but hardly ever gets seen or used...

Drying out the walls and floors during our bitingly cold first December here. Our kitchen looking a bit different!

Our darling little stove in action. The more I think about it, the more I appreciate it. Perhaps it will stay after all...Gosh, memories!

Biggi

A Vegan Paradox Perhaps?

Interesting times...

A big neighbourhood tree was being chopped down and of course I noticed when I returned from my morning walk. In our village, seeing anything being changed, chopped or planted constitutes an invitation for a chat, especially since the chopper was already talking to his next door neighbour.

The row of houses really look bare and bereft now but what's done is done. So, the three of us were shooting the proverbial village breeze - and believe me, the tree was hardly mentioned in our conversation - stumbling on bad neigbhours, illegal labour and the horror of the fires in Australia. Yes, we a traditional conversation without any smartphone distractions; a rarity nowadays!

Australia made my mind connect with conservation of nature ( water in particular ) and thus I mentioned being vegan. By now it is no longer a secret that the production of a piece of meat uses up astronomical amounts of water, a commodity that is lacking in many parts of the world.

Within moments, one of the people I was talking with mentioned that he had only yesterday prepared two rabbits to be eaten. Honestly, if I hadn't stopped him he would more than likely have gone into gory details of how a rabbit is killed and skinned.

One fact I have noticed since going vegan is that as soon as I mention our vegan life choice, stories are retold ranging from the benign medium rare fillet steak eaten to the killing of a rabbit. I get it. Veganism and the thought of having to change one's status quo in regards to food scares many folks but, you don't get me describing huge bowls of salad, big fruit smoothies and homemade hummus the minute you tell me that you are a carnivore....or do I?

Biggi

A Lovely Physalis First Thing This Morning.

Meeting other newish Eisenbergers.

I felt a bit of a klutz standing there with a physalis in my palm and not quite knowing how to eat it. Gosh, I even mumbled about eating the paper thin cover. Yikes, how could I not have know how one eats a Cape gooseberry? Thank goodness they showed me.

It was just at the beginning of my walk that I saw a couple walking, carrying trays of produce. Ah, the couple who've planted a field at the edge of Eisenberg and who I have been told are fellow vegans. What are the odds? The only other time that I met him was on a guided bird-walk early summer. Apart from nods when he or they drive past me while I am out walking.

Today I wanted to find out if they are indeed selling the produce that they so lovingly are growing ( often see them toiling their field ) and was rewarded with a physalis and lots of information.

The thing about living in paradise is that just about everyone is rather laid back and one can have great casual conversations with the odd life changing fact thrown in.

As we were tapping our way into a vegan conversation I began to realize that they are the salt of the earth vegans. Those that make most things from scratch and eschew ready made processed stuff. Oh, how absolutely marvelous and wonderful to talk to an Eisenberger about our vegan way of life without being ridiculed or thought of as the new nutters.

When I mentioned that I had to head out for my walk, his wife hesitatingly asked if she could come along now and again.

" Sure, that would be great,
but I must warn you that I do walk about 7 km at a time. "

To which her husband added;

" Oh, and she walks fast! "

That's small village life for you...everyone knows of each other without even having met properly.

My little Cape gooseberry came along for the walk and was eaten at the end. Lovely mixture of sweet and tart tastes. Climates must be changing because this exotic tropical physalis fruit is now growing in Eisenberg.

Biggi

Chasing Paco.

Never a dull moment in paradise.

Mum and I were on our way to clean one of the holiday cottages when a pavement special walzed in front of us albeit clad in a red collar. Somehow that white and grey shaggy fur looked mighty familiar and suddenly it dawned on me. It was Paco the newly adopted dog. Paco whose owner had passed away a few weeks ago and who now had a new dog mom. And obviously, Paco who had run away from home as I couldn't see anyone with him.

Before mum had even stopped the car I got out to try and entice this dog to come to me. As if. The closer I got the faster he bolted. I tried clapping thinking he might be a bit hard of hearing because of his age, but not so as he did turn his head to give me a stare but then carried on.

Throughout our clean I popped out every few minutes in case he was close enough to grab his collar. Once he got close but even mum's calm calls couldn't entice him. Nothing we could do but hope and pray that he would find his way home on his own. Unfortunately I didn't have his new owners number. Eventually mum dropped me off at home again after we'd finished cleaning and drove off.

Not even ten minutes had passed when the phone rang. Mum, telling me that she had spotted Paco in lower Deutsch Schützen cruising the alleys. Nothing for it. I had to drive there to try and get him to come with me. Mum wisely told me to fetch his new owner first to help catch him. Which I did.

As I drove up to her house she was already walking up and down outside her gate. Hoping he would return on his own after his cunning escape through an inch of left open gate. So, off we drove towards the village when half way along she mentioned that he made a habit of taking off on his own to meander around the country side. He usually showed up again but even so I could see that she was a little bit worried. Naturally we didn't catch sight of him during our slow drive about and he wasn't home either.

Thankfully she calmed my fears of his having to wander about all night, frightened and alone, by telling me that his old owner used to leave his gate open especially for those walk-a-bouts of Paco and more importantly, that he always came back home. Yeah, thank goodness because I had visions of Bob and I doing a long and thorough dog search...

Biggi

Never A Dull Day.

Are men really that stubborn?

I was hoofing it home on the last stretch of my morning walk when I stumbled across one of my neighbours who had just put out his rubbish bin. When they hover after shouting a greeting I know that a chat is on the cards. Love those.

Yesterday whilst queuing at the doc's I had seen him sitting in the waiting room and as one does we exchanged a few words. Not too many as walls do have ears and these ears are always happy to find out why folks are nervously waiting at the doc's. It was no surprise that I asked him this morning how everything was and men are quite happy to oblige, going so far as to flash a leg and show the sore!

Granted, in summer this slightly older chap usually hops about in Bruce Fordyce shorts ( those flappers thought to be the height of running fashion in the early eighties that most women hoped were worn over undies ) but this morning he went so far as to mention that he actually shouldn't expose his leg and sore to sunlight and extreme heat. Well, have you ever.

" Why on earth aren't you wearing longs? Even the doctor told you to! "

" I hate being covered up in summer. "

Before I could help myself I mumbled something along the lines of Bob also having a slightly stubborn streak as he never listens to me either when I ask him to wear more than beach wear for work.

Anyway, he grinned like a naughty schoolboy and we waved our goodbyes. As luck would have it I stumbled across him again a few hours later, not surprisingly prancing about in shorts and t-shirt although the temperature had already surpassed the 30 degree mark.

Oh, you had better believe that I stopped to shoot the breeze...." Where are your longs? " to which he replied full of cheer and with a grin from ear to ear;

" I am like Bob, aren't I?

Biggi

Old Habits Are The Hardest To Break.

If you can't stand the heat...get out of the kitchen!

At about ten o'clock this morning it was already pleasantly hot with the temperature reading in my car giving back an unseemly 31 degrees. Ghastly stuff indeed but with the windows lowered appropriately, bearable. I was on my way to collect medicine for someone in the outlying villages and thus could at least drive with open windows long enough to cool down.

I knocked on the front door which by the way leads straight into her kitchen and was almost knocked over by the heat coming from it. Jeez Louise, what on earth? Why was it hotter than a sauna in there? Well, her son cleared up the mystery...she was cooking on her aga stove. Yes, a blazing hot oven more suited to winter and when I mumbled about why she didn't leave the door open to get some air circulating, she mentioned that the door had to be closed or else her dog would escape...

Anyway, I left eventually and went to see another villager the next village over. All pleasant and nice to catch up but funny too because when I ventured too close to her kitchen, the same thing happened. A wave of warmth mingling with the aromas of an impending lunch were again close to bowling me over.

The irony was that next to this lady's aga stove a new electric stove was standing ready to take over during summer, but the older generation would rather cook and frizzle with on their aga with wood supplied gratis from their bit of forest than needlessly hand over money to the electricity company...Who knows, that could be me one day...

Of course the wood is never as cheap as one thinks because don't forget the huge amount of physical work associated with making fire wood from trees. Me thinks that electricity might be cheaper after all.

Biggi