fairy tales

yesterday, kevin and i went for a walk at rancho. as we got to the top of the hill, there was a family -- two little girls, a mom, a dad -- and they paused, as we did -- they were a few feet away from us -- and the mother and her two daughters began to play, there was a tight knot of tall trees, branches starting far above our heads, and the mother said "oh, I am a fair maiden in the tower, who will come and find me? who is strong and brave and smart enough?" and immediately it was clear that the girls knew rapunzel, and began to enact the rest of the fairy tale. being strong and brave and smart, they could come to the rescue! and there were dragons and horses and rapunzel's long long hair flowing from the tower and in maybe three or four minutes the entire story became real and blossomed and was done. rapunzel was rescued, the girls were strong and sure; each member of the family easily acted one or two roles. and i thought just this: how we learn is living, and all the eons of myth that go before us, and all the centuries of history, and all the stories of love though the ages...they are simply supposed to be woven into our lives, and we, as parents, we are the weavers. teachers can help, and friends are essential, but isn't it up to us to teach our children that they are strong and brave and capable, resilient, full of promise? isn't it an every-day thing, letting them know this and then showing them how? this is what it means, love. it's not who they are and what they do. it's who they know they are, what they believe they can do. and it's knowing the world may be full of situations that seem overwhelming. and it is believing that even the impossible can be made possible with ingenuity and faith and strength. long long tresses can become rope, small girls can become brave knights, the bare trunks of tall trees can become a tower. and we can remember that our strength is in each other, in ourselves, and in the sharing of it. if we don't share, it becomes dormant and might very well wait at the top of every tower asleep and dusty and completely missing the brave ones who teach us new things: the children.

my hat is off to that mother. she knows what she is doing.

echte

Having arrived in Langenburg fairly early

in the morning, the first stop I made was

Cafe Bauer. There was a young woman

sweeping the steps on the side of the cafe,

and it was open, and I trotted in and was

overcome with nostalgia and brought out

my camera for the first time (on the trip).

(Clearly, not the last. Can I admit to having

a bit of a blogging hangover from the posts

yesterday? What was I thinking?)

Where was I? (Not doing the time-change

thing as swifty as my husband, who has it

down. Not sure I ever will. Okay. Onward.)

So. The young woman sweeping the steps

wasn't really very excited about me taking

pictures. Not at all. But before she could come

in, and sort of let me know that I was free to

buy something or maybe just leave and let her

get back to her business (fair enough)...I snapped

a few. And I did buy something, and got all fumbly

doing so and at the last minute had a tear in my

eye because darn it I missed my family. My

whole family, yes, but at that moment most

especially my little sister who had been -- with

me -- lucky enough to have an overnight at the

castle right down the street, with the very very

delightful family that lived there then (and a

few of whom live there still) and lordy I did

also miss my parents, who had joined us after

the weekend we stayed and had a lovely

barbecue (including corn on the cob, on the grill;

a rare treat at that time) with the family in the

courtyard around their sweetly chic pool

(if I recall correctly, everything Princess

Charlotte did was quietly and somewhat

amazingly chic, in the most subtle way).

Where was I again? Okay. I'm trying to tell

the young woman, as I buy the Wibele, that

my sister and I used to love them. Was also

going to tell her that my mom would put

out the Jagst Kiesel (candy, above, that

looks just like pebbles; serious heaven) in a

small elegant dish and how magic it seemed,

but the young woman didn't (or was just in

a hurry to get me out the door) seem to

understand a single word so I just gathered up

my small bag of goodies, took them to the car

and then ambled around Prince Kraft's auto

museum (which can be seen here) and the

palace grounds (which are open, outside the

gates) and took more photos and kept missing

everyone. Funny how strong a hold some

places have on our memories, and how

flooded the senses become when suddenly

you are there again. Wibele, now that I

think of it, taste a bit like crunchy tiny

slightly meringue-y madeleines.

There you go.

getting there

blue. skies.

honi soit qui mal y pense

Hohenlohe-Langenburg

(the quick photos

of coats-of-arms

were taken at the

museum yesterday,

& if you start looking

into all of this, courtesy

of google, it's utterly

fascinating and 'tho

i could say more i won't

because where oh where

would one possibly begin?)

motorhead