Wind blows through the treetops so they bend and sway, slowly, as if underwater. It breathes out, lips pursed, blowing a whoosh of air above me so the trees swish and rush. The surface of the pond moves as if a current runs through it. Ripples race across its skin. Canada geese are blown along with the rippling, their feathered egg bodies and black curved necks racing like boats in a regatta.
The air is chilly; my only exposed skin is on my hands and face. I wear a jacket, baseball cap, and long pants to cover everything else. Sound and touch are my active senses right now — cold skin, neck hairs tickling in the wind, ears full of the rushing of leaves papering against each other, the forlorn sound of a goose honk, the twitter of birds in the trees behind and above me. A duck just waddled under the round stone table I’m writing on.
The sun has come out from a cloud and shines dappled buttery light on my page. My hand casts a strong shadow from the light that shines behind. The light feels like warm honey on my back. A male mallard sits in a spot of sunlight under the canopy of the giant oak above us both. Its emerald head is tucked under its wing. Its feathers flutter in the wind.
A big gust is blowing through now. The shadows of the tree’s leaves race across the table, my pages fly up, my body chills. Wind hisses across my ears. Across the pond, weeping willow tendrils swing like heavy green hair that almost sweeps the water.
Green surrounds me. Green grass in this glade. Green trees above me. Green moss on the low stone wall behind. Willows, oaks, azaleas, ivy, magnolias, dogwoods. A bike bell dings. The sky is a clear blue against the emerald of the earth.
I am at the duck pond on campus. I loaded my backpack today with notebooks and a camera, water bottle and a package to ship, and I turned onto Glade Road when I emerged from the neighborhood instead of going straight down Meadowbrook Drive like I normally do. I walked to the post office to drop off my package. I walked to the botanical garden.
Walking is such a simple pleasure. It requires nothing — no jersey or special shoes, no fuel, no keys or helmet, no vehicle, no constructed facility like a pool. Yet it gives everything: fresh air, physicality, sunlight, wind, rain, leaves rustling, ducks waddling, Canada geese clustering in the corner of the pond the wind blew them all into. A feeling of being part of the world.
Maid in the mud garden sprite at Hahn Horticultural Garden
Daily writing prompt
Describe one simple thing you do that brings joy to your life.
I went for a walk yesterday and I didn’t see flowers. I didn’t see birds or green leaves. I saw nobody I knew. Nobody to stop and have a chat with (if I wanted to stop and have a chat, which I didn’t, not really).
On my walk, I didn’t see skyscrapers. I didn’t see a lake or the ocean. I didn’t see my parents or my besties. I didn’t see anyone from work.
I didn’t see farmland, I didn’t see industry, I didn’t see a city, I didn’t see a forest. No waste water plant, no rivers.
I didn’t see a stationery shop or a book store, a pastry shop or a local cafe. I didn’t see iron verandas or balconies or balustrades. I didn’t see people leaning on porch rails watching the world go by. I didn’t see folks on the sidewalk catching up. I didn’t see anyone walking a cat on a leash.
I didn’t see snowflakes or raindrops. I didn’t see an American flag hang motionless.
I didn’t see anyone in nurse’s scrubs, I saw no men or women in business suits. I didn’t see anyone rollerblading or biking, skateboarding or hiking. I didn’t see beer bottles litter the sidewalk. I saw no broken windows or doors with bars on them.
I did not see buskers, I did not see graffiti. I didn’t see a block party. I didn’t see a pen shop. Nobody ate ice cream.
I didn’t see open windows with curtains billowing in them. I didn’t see anyone on a bench reading a book. I didn’t see anyone holding hands.
I didn’t see anyone fight. I saw no animosity. I didn’t see a Volkswagen beetle.
So random, right? This was a fun writing prompt from Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones Deck that my daughter gave me for Christmas. The prompt was to go for a walk and then write what you didn’t see.
A year ago, or at any time in my life really, if someone would have asked me to list the top ten places in the world I’d like to visit, Germany would not have been on that list. It never occurred to me to want to go to Germany. But after visiting Munich in November, I’ve fallen in love. Munich was beautiful, walkable, easy, and comforting. I felt at home there.
I had the opportunity last week to visit another German city, Frankfurt, and while it has a totally different vibe from Munich, I’m still in love. Frankfurt is more of a business city, with a financial district filled with glass skyscrapers, but I still found it beautiful, walkable, easy, and comforting.
I was in Frankfurt for work, and like in Munich, I established a daily morning routine where I got up early to walk, then ate breakfast before the workday began. Unlike Munich, where all of our work and dining took place in the same hotel where we stayed, in Frankfurt, we left the hotel every day to walk to our co-working space, and to lunch, and to dinner. I also had a work-free afternoon free to walk, eat frankfurters and cake, and shoot some photos.
View from the footbridge across the Main RiverRömerbergSpring is coming 🙂 I love these flower boxesMust-dos in Frankfurt: frankfurters, beer, crown cake, Römerberg
Though we worked in the shiny part of the city where tall metal and glass buildings blocked the sky, our hotel was in a historic part of town only one block from the Main river. These beautiful red buildings were on my way to the river, which I walked along every day.
Down by the riverOver the Main
I’ll happily visit Germany every chance I get. I think Berlin needs to be next.
When I travel for work, I have a hard time fitting in physical activity. Running shoes are too big to pack for the small amount of use they’ll get since I only wear them for running. Swim gear is small, though, and there were pools both places I went on my recent work trip. I brought a swimsuit, cap, and goggles, which fit easily in my suitcase. However, the pool the first week was outside and cold, and the pool the second week was indoors but closed. So I didn’t get to swim.
By the time we got to Munich, after I’d been sedentary and eating delicious food non-stop for a full week in Palma de Mallorca, I was desperate for physical activity. It turns out Munich is a wonderfully walkable city, if cold and wet in November. For my second week away, instead of running or swimming, I laced up my boots and I walked.
Day One: city center shopping and Munich American High School
On our first day in Munich, I discovered to my delight that we were only one block away from access to natural beauty, with walking paths and without cars. Our hotel was called Hilton Munich Park, but until I looked at the map and saw huge green spaces everywhere, I didn’t put it together that the hotel was named for its proximity to the Englischer Garten, one of the largest urban parks in the world. Our first morning in Munich, I walked out under the grey sky into the park, and I fell in love. I walked there every day.
Walk in the park
This day was our day off between meetups, and after breakfast, the four of us from my team who’d come over from Mallorca walked all around the city center to watch the Glockenspiel strike noon, to shop for art supplies, kitchen supplies, and a photography backpack, and to eat pretzels and drink beer.
Glockenspiel, a teacup Christmas tree, and beer and pretzels
After lunch, I ventured out on my own to see if I could find my mom’s high school. All my life I’ve heard her talk about Munich American High School, the school she graduated from in 1969. Her dad was in the US Air Force and was stationed in a small town in Italy where there wasn’t a high school for Mom and my uncle to go to, so they shipped off to Munich.
I rode the tram to the stop near the address my mom had given me. The rain had finally started falling after threatening all day, and when I got off the tram, I went straight to the supermarket to buy an umbrella. I walked for about an hour, all around the area where my mom’s high school used to be. The school isn’t there anymore, but I got to walk a wooded path by the schools that replaced it, and I got a feel for the area.
Where Munich American High School used to be
I got in 19,000 steps that day, and it felt so good.
Day Two: Surfers, Palace, Hofbrauhaus, and cake
This was the travel day for the meetup, meaning that most people from the company would arrive today. I started my day with a morning walk, as I ended up doing every day in Munich. On this day I tested waking at 6am and walking at 7am (sunrise was 7:20) to see if I could walk around the lake and get back by 8am for breakfast. If it worked, I planned to make that my routine for the rest of the week.
It did work, and I followed that routine every day: wake and shower, do a little work, walk, then head to breakfast, when I had meetings scheduled nearly every day. My daily walk was a perfect way to start each day. I loved seeing the lake in different light and weather.
Morning at the lake
Since I couldn’t find Mom’s high school the day before, I asked her for any other landmarks to visit. She remembered the Glockenspiel, and she also told me about a beer house she used to go to — Hofbrauhaus — where she could get a liter of beer for 50 cents. So the second day, that was my primary quest. My team lead also told us that Germany is good at cake, so we needed to also meet for cake. That was my secondary quest. First beer, then cake.
After my morning walk and catching up with some work stuff, a friend from my team walked with me through a different part of the park to get to the city center and Hofbrauhaus. The river through the park is flowing fiercely right now, and there are places in the river that create continual waves.
And these continual waves attract surfers.
So on our way to the beer house, we stopped to watch some surfers, decked out in full wetsuits, surf the river wave. We also walked through the grounds of the Munich Residenz, the palace that was home to Bavarian kings and queens, and Feldherrnhalle, the site of the battle that ended Hitler’s failed coup to take over the Bavarian state in 1923. He was subsequently arrested and found guilty of treason. He wrote Mein Kampf from prison after that arrest.
Surfers in the distance, about to drop inBathing verbotenPalace groundsPalace courtyardCorner of FeldherrnhalleOn our walk to Hofbrauhaus
My coworker and friend, Kris, joined me on my venture to Hofbrauhaus. As soon as we turned the corner and I saw the crowned HB on a building, I recognized it from a stoneware beer stein we’ve had in our house my entire life. I always liked it because my dad and mom are Henry and Beth: HB.
At Hofbrauhaus, I had the best meal I think I ate in Munich. We got a bread basket that included rye rolls and seeded breadsticks with fried onions and crispy cheese on top. The bread in Munich is amazing. Our team lead told us that mushroom foraging is big in Germany, so I ordered a seasonal special of mushroom ragout. And of course, I had to get a liter of beer, the Hofbräu Dunkel. The mug was bigger than my head.
My mom’s high school doesn’t exist anymore, but the beer house she frequented does
I could barely walk when we left, I was so full. And we were due for cake in 30 minutes with our teammates. So we set out on foot again and headed for the cake shop, Konditorei Erbshäuser, where we shared 5 pieces of cake among 4 of us: Prinzregententorte (many thin layers), Sachertorte (my favorite! all chocolate), almond cheesecake, apricot cheesecake, and Mohnkuchen (German poppy seed cake). It was raining when we finished, but we walked through the rain to another shop anyway before catching an Uber back to the hotel.
Cake quest
Days 3-6
Our meetup officially started on our third day in Munich, which means I had less time to move and get active. But I still walked every day in the park.
Walking at sunriseWalking in the rain
On the final day of our work meetup, I went a different direction on my walk than my normal lakeside routine. I walked toward the palace and found a different part of the park I hadn’t seen yet. I walked along the river and found more waves and small waterfalls. It was too early for surfers, but in a calm pool in the river, in the early part of the day just after sunrise, before many people were out walking and running, two people bathed naked in the river. I wore a warm hat, a coat, long underwear, and wool socks, and these two were just hanging out in the barely-above-freezing water with nothing on. Apparently this is fairly normal, nudists in Germany. In winter, surfers wear hooded wetsuits, but in summer it’s not unusual to see them surf naked.
That night, our company booked tables for more than 300 people, and we were treated to dinner and beer at Augustinerkeller, a beer garden and hall that’s been around since the early 1800s. I got another liter of beer, because why not, I was in Germany, and though the walk was short and cold, we did walk around the garden where people in liederhosen played matches of curling in the rain. We stood around a raised fire bowl and sipped our wegbier — “beer for the way” — or walking-around beer. Because of course there’s a German word for the beer you carry with you.
Final day in Munich
I didn’t have any idea what to expect of Munich, but I fell in love with it. I could spend a lot more time there.
When our daughter is at her evening swim practice, I drop her off then drive over to a nearby trail, the Huckleberry, where I pop my headphones on and either go for a run or a walk. It used to be that I could go for an hour walk, then drive over to the aquatic center and sit in the parking lot in daylight all the way until practice was over.
Now, the sun sets before 6:30, and I’m lucky if I can get a 30 minute walk in. Next week, after the time changes this weekend, the sun will have already set when I drop our daughter off.
Last night was my final evening walk on the Huckleberry, and it was a spectacular one. The clouds pinked at sunset, and starlings flew in morphing clouds in the cool autumn air.
The air is cool and heavy, the sky overcast. A crow caws, and I hear it through the open window. This morning when I sat here, I watched a V of Canada geese fly through the flat grey sky. Their honks echoed off the mountains in the fog.
On Saturdays, our daughter has swim practice about 20 minutes from our house. I used to go to a coffee shop or read on the bleachers at the aquatic center while she swam, but those aren’t options during the pandemic. So today I loaded my phone with a short story, pulled on a baseball cap to keep my glasses dry in the drizzle, and walked along the Huckleberry Trail, a local 7-mile paved trail for cyclists and pedestrians.
I listened to Tommy Orange read Louise Erdrich’s “The Years of My Birth.” The story was a perfect accompaniment to a cool misty stroll in Appalachia. Erdrich’s writing is organic. It is both humic and crisp, and she weaves together nature and spirit and the human soul. I’ve read a few of her novels, but my favorite work of hers is a short story, “The Stone,” published earlier this year. It’s mysterious and potent and feels like it comes from the belly of the earth.
Under the canopy of oaks and pines, a spray of goldenrod hugged a damp tree stump. The trees are still green — they have not started bronzing yet — but as I walked, a single yellow leaf drifted down onto the path. I crunched through a smattering of fallen leaves, and their musty forest scent curled into my nose.
In the wet air, when I crossed the railroad tracks, I smelled the tarry odor of creosote. Where the trail was open to the sky, goldenrod and ironweed lined the path in sprays of pollen yellow and grape juice purple. Pale violet asters collected mist at their knees.
But the thing that got me was the acorn. When I crossed the railroad track, I felt something the size of a marble crunch underfoot. I looked down and saw several smashed nuts, ground to bursts of yellow dust on the paved trail. A squirrel scrambled across the path. A couple of steps later, I saw an intact green acorn, complete with its jaunty stemmed cap, and I knew fall would be here soon.
Now I’m back home, in jeans and bare feet. Our windows are open, and through the back screen door, black-eyed Susans wave in a mass of 3-inch suns on stems. The mums are thigh-high now, and their once green mounds are now masses of deep red blooms. Tangerine zinnias pop bright orange on this grey day, and our own sprays of goldenrod burst like fireworks down the hill.
The Joe Pye weed and sedum and echinacea blush pink but will soon fade to brown. When the echinacea drop their petals, the goldfinches will come and perch on the dried seed cones. Small bright bundles of yellow, the little birds will sway on long stems. I don’t want summer to end. But the goldfinches on the echinacea are one of my favorite things about my garden. If summer has to end, seeing them bob on spindly coneflower stems makes it a tiny bit easier to bear.
Butterfly Mind 