perambulate with snoozing Fritz through the Düsternbrooke Schutzgebiet nearby while Christian & Steffi get ready to go to Zurich for the weekend. acorns (tall oaks from tiny acorns grow!) and chestnuts crunch and pop underfoot. wander past a moldy granite marker with the word Königsbuche (Royal Beech Tree) engraved on it. often when in Germany in larger towns, and in the parks on those towns, I look for the inevitable craters that are sprinkled through the underbrush and between trees. sometimes when the forest floor is clear of brush, it is possible to see rows of craters. filled with water and rotting branches. other places, hills in city parks are merely the wooded remains of debris piles made from clearing destroyed buildings from city streets.
whump whump whump. high-explosives falling in sandy soil. splintering trees into smoking piles of largish toothpicks, sending plumes of shattered glass, brick, ornamental plaster work, and wooden beams into the air and down on the neighbors.
past the tennis club, girls with dogs smiling brightly at me. is it the pram that throws them off? or the combination of my black leather jacket and bright red hoodie sticking out. black and red is not a forgettable color constellation in this country.