Winter will be around for a little while. As long as sunshine is illuminating the landscape, we do not mind. It is preferable to mild, but rainy, foggy weather. Today’s photos focus again on the bizarre shapes that the roots form in a snowy setting. I find it intriguing that snow can take on so many different tones, ranging from brilliant white to dark blue. I made the same observation with ice. To get that effect, the sky does not need to be blue. Enjoy!
Two images of the ice and snow sculptures show artificial mountain ranges. An icy layer hanging over a decaying tree trunk creates a dark mountain image, while an ice sheet at the bottom becomes a snowy mountain against the dark, blurry background of the same tree trunk. What do you see in the other photos? Enjoy.
As I already mentioned, my dad prepared us well for school. Before every lesson in his roomy study, he would say in English, “I am your teacher.” He wanted to acquaint us with a foreign language early on in life. He refused to teach us Russian, which would have been more helpful in a communist state controlled by the Soviet Union. Math was always fun. My brother and I had competitions in mental math, which I would usually win. Until my last years in high school, I consistently outperformed my brother. But then he surpassed me, and I could never catch up. Calculus was my downfall.
We had to memorize poems, ballads and, of course, lots of folk songs, which we would sing on long hikes in the beautiful forests of Thuringia. Most of the songs are still fresh in my mind. They bring back happy memories of picking berries, swimming in rivers and lakes, and picnics under beautiful trees. My dad would tell us legends and fairy tales often connected to the region’s folklore on these outings. Since the German language has fairly consistent phonetic rules, I learned reading almost on my own before entering school.
Walter and Biene
The famous German “Zuckertüte” or sugar cone bag originated in Thuringia near Gotha. This giant, brightly decorated cone-shaped paper bag was filled with chocolates, candies and other delicacies or little gifts to “sweeten” the first day of school. I wished we had a picture of ours. But at that time, my parents did not have the means to buy films. We only had a few hours of school every morning for the first few years, including Saturdays. Students were expected to do homework and practice their new skills after school. Since my brother and I were fast learners, we had lots of free time to play when we returned home for lunch.
During the last two weeks, I may have created the false impression that I did not like winter with my nostalgic look back to summer and fall. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Every season has its beauty. I pulled photos out of my archives because I had to take care of my wife and make sure that her broken leg was healing properly. There was just no time to go out and take pictures for both of us. Today and the day before, Biene and I drove down to the lake. My wife could not leave the car but took photos through the open window. I wandered around the parking lot to look for some worthwhile themes. The highways crew had piled up the snow such that the resulting sculptures displayed interesting shapes. Here they are. Enjoy!
Another child-rearing practice my parents employed is also of dubious nature. My parents’ generation stood under the influence of the naturopathic medicine movement of Sebastian Kneipp. He believed in the therapeutic power of cold water. My parents wanted us to grow up strong and healthy. Every Saturday, my brother and I had our weekly bath in a big zinc tub placed on two chairs in our spacious kitchen. A hot bath was a luxury at that time. We enjoyed this rare pleasure tremendously. But all treats come to an end, and for us, it was very abrupt. Without warning, my mother would dump a bucket full of cold water, which she had hidden under the chairs over us, as suggested by Sebastian Kneipp.
This “shock therapy” was supposed to toughen and strengthen us. Before we could utter desperate cries of protest, we were wrapped in warm towels. Time and again, my mother would assure us that she would not do it again. But she never kept her promise and was very skillful in hiding the bucket of frigid water. Until the end of his life, my brother detested cold water. I, on the other hand, started to like this invigorating therapy. To this day, I love swimming in cold lakes and conclude my warm bath with a cold shower.
Another Kneipp practice my parents employed was even more dramatic and terrifying. As a small child, my brother had terrible temper tantrums. He frequently would fly into such a rage that he almost turned blue in his face screaming. All measures to calm him down failed until my mother and sister started to resort to another Kneipp treatment. They would quickly pick up my hysterical brother and hold his head under running cold water from the tap. The shock would instantly calm him. I was very scared watching this cruel procedure.
Like my brother, I was also strong-willed. But I did not voice my protests in furor. I would instead use passive resistance. My mother tried to give us one teaspoon of pure cod liver oil every day during the fall and winter season to prevent rickets and other health conditions. I vehemently detested this foul-smelling and even worse-tasting liquid. My mother could neither coax nor threaten me into compliance. I kept my mouth pressed shut. When all attempts failed to change my mind, my sister would hold me down on the couch, open my mouth forcefully. In an instant, my mother would pour the disgusting sticky liquid down my throat. I could not understand why my mother and sister, who loved us so much, could do such horrible things to us.
Last week I posted flowers. I sense from your comments that you too enjoyed looking at their bright colours and beautiful shapes. Today I would like to focus on the landscape around the Arrow Lakes that is so delightful to view, especially in the fall. One month of winter is already behind us. Only two more to go until spring. Rejoice!
The Peter and Gertrud Klopp Family 