Windy Sunday afternoon ride (flash post)

I was back on my bike this afternoon, and I took Markus along on a jaunt through the vineyards and fields southeast of Flein. Grapes are a-growing: bushy plants and small, hard-looking fruit. We saw fields of rapeseed (some harvested), corn, wheat, rye, strawberries, and raspberries.

Up along the southern edge of the vineyards, we passed the big red frame, Flein's outdoor "movie theater." The color has faded considerably since we first encountered the frame in 2010. The photo shows Miriam and me with both sets of grandparents. A lot has changed. For one thing, Miriam's several inches taller than me now.

Open Air Cinema of Flein, where we are encouraged
to stop, rest and watch the world go by (October 2010)

Markus and I found the "Ausschank" open. It's a hut out in the fields that serves wine and snacks on Sunday afternoons in the summertime. We stopped for a glass of Sekt and a cheese sandwich and chatted with our across-the-street neighbors. We learned a lot about the history of Flein. They came in 1958 when the population was 3,000. We came in 2010 at 6,500. Now it's 7,000 and growing. (The three of us weren't the only new arrivals.)

On the downhill straightaways toward home, I coasted through the wind with my loose linen top flapping against my back and sides like a fabulous torso massage. More than enough reward for the bramble scrape on the back of my hand and the dead-ends, gravel sections, and pant-inducing uphills.

Now we look with all of Germany toward tonight's action in Brazil. I'm glad (after the USA left the World Cup) to have a decent back-up team to cheer for. We're already drinking more Sekt.

[Sekt is sparkling wine that's made like champagne, but it's illegal to call it champagne because that's a protected name. Our bottle tonight is rosé, from grapes grown around about where we were biking today.]

Another sunny Sunday

If you can call twice in a row a habit, then a Sunday afternoon bike ride in the hilly vineyards at the edge of Flein is my new one. Much like last week, I enjoyed the solitude of following the paths that climb and wind through the tidy rows of grape vines.

Waxing crescent moon straight overhead in a blue sky. Gentle breeze. Temperature right around 70 F (20 C). I saw horses in their grassy pens, a family of hairy goats (including a tiny black one), and two jack rabbits in the middle of a meadow, chasing each other in circles. Up near the edge of the woods I looked for the dark brown butterflies again. I saw only two, which supports last week's theory that their lives are particularly brief. (The German wikipedia link offers a picture of about what these butterflies look like. As far as I can tell, they live a full season, rather than mere days. If you've never tried this trick before: click on another language in the languages list, e.g., English, to be switched instantly to the same article in the other language. Braunscheckauge is apparently a Northern Wall Brown.)

Between the vineyards I spotted several fields of rapeseed in nearly full flower. Here are some photos I took last May of rapeseed in full fluorescent bloom. Note, today is April 6th, and last year's photos were a good five weeks later.

Rapeseed field near Flein (photo May 2013)

From a vineyard hill, looking down at the fields
beyond the newest homes in town (photo May 2013)

Other signs of an advanced spring: the strawberries in nearby fields are in flower already, too. The fruit trees at the edges of the agricultural fields, alongside the vineyards, and next to many buildings are also blooming gloriously. Most of them are loaded with simple white blossoms clustered like half a large popcorn ball. (There I go using popcorn imagery again.) Since most of the fruit trees around here are apple trees and since most of the blooming trees have these flowers, my conclusion is that these are indeed apple trees. (If you know better, please correct me.)

Future apples 

A wonder in form and simplicity

The grape vines still appear to be holding back. A few have released the beginnings of leaves at their budding eyes. But most have a sort of pent-up, held-breath containment. They must be waiting for rain. The earth in our gardens and out in the fields is drawn with cracks from the lack of rain. If I were a grape vine, I'd be waiting, too, until several good dowsings of rain convinced me to let forth for another season.

Sunday afternoon bike ride

I took a sunny bike ride around the vineyards at the east end of Flein. If you look at the map, you can see how the L1100 splits into a Y in the middle of the village of Flein (population 7,000). We live at the northwest edge, where the village meets open agricultural fields (wheat, rye, corn, potatoes, rapeseed). East of Flein you can see a small blue lake. Around there the vineyards spread over rolling hills. My route took me to the wooded edge (the green strip).



Up near the woods on the winding paths, I encountered signs of spring. Some creatures inspire me to speak a friendly greeting, like butterflies and birds (and dragonflies, when I see them). Other buzzing creatures remind me to bike with my mouth closed.

Butterflies flew near me, and I had glimpses of their chestnut brown bodies and wings warmed with orange. They were too dark to be monarchs, but they reminded me of them. As I rode, suddenly certain "wood chips" on the asphalt roused to life and took flight. I believe they were out there to catch the sun. In pairs they flew amorous, playful dances in the sky. If they're like the monarch, they have precious little time.

The vineyards stand ready. Above gnarled stems, the plants are reduced two naked branches each, bent or bowed sideways on the wire trellis along each row, ready to sprout this year's new growth. The vintner's winter tasks involve pruning back to the two best-looking vines emerging from the stalk. Bending them takes careful molding in the hands to avoid breakage. I tried it one year, and I felt a few snap despite my effort.

Two main branches kept from last year.

Rows of bent vines.

The grape vines seem skeptical of this very early spring. You can't tell they're growing until you get close and see new growth budding out like tiny white bits of popcorn.

Beginning of new growth.

Spring outside the vineyards is fully here. Flowering fruit trees and magnolias stretch white and pink blossoms toward the sky, forsythia paints hedges yellow, daffodils and hyacinth are giving way to tulips, and—my favorite sighting yesterday—a lobelia-like flower pours like purple pillows from stone walls.

And, because I can't resist, here is my favorite willow tree tucked between the creek and the open fields where I walk near our apartment (about a week ago).

[Returning readers may notice the slight update to the design of this blog. What do you think? And also my attempt to "keep at it" with the shorter posts! The new photo of Alexanderturm (instead of the grapes, remember?) is part of a forthcoming slide show about visiting Berlin.]