Rapeseed fields in the deep South

Early this morning the Doctor came by for a visit on my request. Not for Willemien’s Finger - the first weeks of rest have a healing effect, yes, thank you; and for me no more signs of repeating bleeding from the nose or elsewhere...- No, we had arranged an investigation into the health condition of both of our most important inhabitants of our hill forest grounds: The Gardian Oak and the Big Beech. They underwent surgery already three years ago. But because of some grave tree-falling and -felling in the vicinity I felt the need to do the precautionary check-up.

Both giants are in excellent condition - they are between 60 and 80 years old... - and that will be registered in an expert document: a great relief, the prospect of a tree-caring future brought peace into our hearts. After all, they form the vital centre of our “Carlsheavenly” life here and symbolize the spiritual naming of our working-sites: “theoaktreefactory” (Mischa), “oakhillside” (Willemien) and “wistfuloak”. They are the first real-life big trees of age in our life, this house in Hessen being the first we ever “owned”. A priceless gift which earns its due care in gratitude.

In the afternoon we made another long walk down and up and down and up again. Less idyllic than yesterdays - halfway it started to rain and we came home tired and soaked - but nonetheless it gave us something special to experience. We climbed up the Weser valley hills on the Southside to have a better look into the yellows of the rapeseed. We saw that landscape from higher up and far away. Now we were immersed and overwhelmed by those infinite spaces. From the far Eastern horizon over the low mountains in the South to the far West.

Amazing and liberating, this kind of experience. Here we crossed through the rapeseed fields to the Parrots Farm and - in the rain - back to the river valley. On our way through the wet and windy fields we saw a young woman jogging in the rain, accompanied by her two big Danes. Bare rosa arms and shoulders, bare rosa legs, her long blond hair wavering in the rainy wind. On that vast plane, from nowhere to nowhere, a young “Walkyria” in search for her horse? We had just passed a sacred crossing with a crucifix between two oaks. We shivered and wondered...