It is after seven in Plaik, Austria. The sun shines over the frosty field, melting the frost glimmering on the grass. On my way back to the pension for breakfast after an early morning walk I stop to greet the goats and sheep that were getting sheared yesterday. The old farmer that is checking on his flocks, with washed out blue eyes, stooped shoulders and a thick Tirolean accent, comments that walking is good for the figure. As I stand to watch the lambs flicking their tails merrily as they feed, the white-haired farmer once again speaks to me. He says something unintelligible and pats my cheek in a grandfatherly way. We part ways, as I already anticipate a good strong cup of coffee.
Noon finds me up at Wettersteinhuette, only just opened this weekend to the public. Ron and I enjoy soup out on the terrace as we gaze at the most beautiful panorama of snow-covered mountain ranges under blue skies. Bella, our faithful four-legged companion, waits eagerly under the table for any possible scraps we decide to share with her. She is a friendly mutt that belongs to the pension we are staying at, and her undiscriminatory taste in anything edible is attested to by the fact that she has rounded out since I last saw her.
The afternoon finds achey legs directed back down the mountain we have just climbed. I trekked through the snow to Napoleon's monument near the rock rim of the Gehrenspitze to enjoy the breathtaking view of the valley while Ron and Bella napped. The arrival back into little Plaik brings a new acquaintance. A lanky old farmer is tying new fence posts and stops us to inquire where we are from and how long we are here. His dream is to take a vacation to the sea in three years--the coast of Alaska, Oregon, perhaps even South America and Australia. He used to be a triathlete, you see, and swimming is a favorite hobby of his. The sea calls him like the mountains call us.
Now the evening finds me here, thinking back on these fleeting days of being with loved ones in beloved mountains. Hours on a mountainside have provided incredible vistas, refreshment for the soul and mind, and good conversations about life and faith and well, everything in between.
Signing out with a thankful heart and a sunburned face!
Yours truly
Noon finds me up at Wettersteinhuette, only just opened this weekend to the public. Ron and I enjoy soup out on the terrace as we gaze at the most beautiful panorama of snow-covered mountain ranges under blue skies. Bella, our faithful four-legged companion, waits eagerly under the table for any possible scraps we decide to share with her. She is a friendly mutt that belongs to the pension we are staying at, and her undiscriminatory taste in anything edible is attested to by the fact that she has rounded out since I last saw her.
The afternoon finds achey legs directed back down the mountain we have just climbed. I trekked through the snow to Napoleon's monument near the rock rim of the Gehrenspitze to enjoy the breathtaking view of the valley while Ron and Bella napped. The arrival back into little Plaik brings a new acquaintance. A lanky old farmer is tying new fence posts and stops us to inquire where we are from and how long we are here. His dream is to take a vacation to the sea in three years--the coast of Alaska, Oregon, perhaps even South America and Australia. He used to be a triathlete, you see, and swimming is a favorite hobby of his. The sea calls him like the mountains call us.
Now the evening finds me here, thinking back on these fleeting days of being with loved ones in beloved mountains. Hours on a mountainside have provided incredible vistas, refreshment for the soul and mind, and good conversations about life and faith and well, everything in between.
Signing out with a thankful heart and a sunburned face!
Yours truly
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