Erinnerungen an einen Sonntag im Garten- Memories of a Sunday on the Lawn

“ Home, so far from Home, so far to go, and we’ve only just begun…”

Garten- East German "Idylle" and somewhere grow bushes of red, white and black currants that we would pour too much sugar over.

Gänseblümchen- I would pluck them with my toes, take their heads,pull out one petal at a time,collect them in the palm of my hands blow them into the grass.

Klee- I still catch myself looking out for the ones with four leaves.

Gartenschlauch- connected to the lawn sprinkler, we would jump naked through its mist and count the rainbows that’d appear in the afternoon sun.

Gummistiefel und Schuppen- Grandpa always had something to do, build, water, mow...

Kondenzstreifen- sometimes I waited for two of them to cross. I thought that planes were scraping on a freshly painted blue surface leaving a white strip.

Mittagstisch- I can smell the butter melting on the green beans and hear the potatoes boiling.

Tischdecke- a plastic bed for breadcrumbs

Hollywoodschaukel- the post lunch nap and the distant sound of a lawn mower, the bees, and wind blowing through birch trees.

Spinnennetz- spiders weaving through the gardens of my childhood, and always the shrieking when "Opa Langbein" got lost in my hair

Kaffee um 4

Spritzkuchen, Mohnstreusel, Eierschecke, Bienenstich- the Sunday afternoon cakes to be covered generously with clouds of whipped cream. I hated whipped cream. I still do but grandmothers do not understand that.

Früher und Heute- " He would scare the chicken", " It wasn't me..."

“Hold on there’s nothing to pack, Lay you heart out, we’re not coming back, We’re not coming back…”- Lisa Hannigan- Home.