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Sunday, March 23, 2008

Frohe Ostern!


I hope this finds you well.

We are doing well. Spring is finally showing its first sings and I cleaned out my flowerbeds today to see, what all is "peeking" out.
Quite a few bulbs are out and some of my favorite Snowdrops are starting to bloom. They are originally from Europe (I think) and they remind me of home, because they are the first ones to bloom.
And they spread, so after a few years, you have little blankets of them in the yard.

We also went for a Easter walk. The dogs needed some exercise and we enjoyed it as well.
We try to let Pepper off the leash for a little bit. She runs far, but she does come back:)

I don't know why, but I always have Goethe's Easter walk in mind on a day like this that he wrote about in "Faust":

From Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: "Faust", translation by Edgar Alfred Bowring, 1853

From the ice they are freed, the stream and brook,
By the Spring's enlivening, lovely look;
The valley's green with joys of hope;
The Winter old and weak ascends
Back to the rugged mountain slope.

From there, as he flees, he downward sends
An impotent shower of icy hail
Streaking over the verdant vale.
Ah! but the Sun will suffer no white,

Growth and formation stir everywhere,
'Twould fain with colours make all things bright,

Though in the landscape are no blossoms fair.
Instead it takes gay-decked humanity.

Now turn around and from this height,
Looking backward, townward see.

Forth from the cave-like, gloomy gate
Crowds a motley and swarming array.

Everyone suns himself gladly today.
The Risen Lord they celebrate,

For they themselves have now arisen
From lowly houses' mustiness,
From handicraft's and factory's prison,
From the roof and gables that oppress,

From the bystreets' crushing narrowness,
From the churches' venerable night,
They are all brought out into light.
See, only see, how quickly the masses
Scatter through gardens and fields remote;
How down and across the river passes
So many a merry pleasure-boat.

And over-laden, almost sinking,
The last full wherry moves away.
From yonder hill's far pathways blinking,
Flash to us colours of garments gay.

Hark! Sounds of village joy arise;
Here is the people's paradise,

Contented, great and small shout joyfully:
"Here I am Man, here dare it to be!"

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