Fall

October 29, 2010

After writing this, I noticed that an orange glow was coming through the westward windows. It being 9 AM I was confused. Then I looked out and saw this beautiful tree. The sun merely coasts across the southern edge of the sky these days--always low sun. Shadows are so different way up here. . .

This is the beginning of phase three of our adjustment. Phase 1 was our month in Celle. Phase 2 was our three weeks in our new house before my parents arrived for a visit. Phase 3 is the time that began after my mom left this morning. Our house now has pictures hung, coat racks up, curtains in three rooms . . .

I just returned from taking Henry to kindergarten. My mom left for Houston early this morning, taking a taxi to the airport at 5:15, then John left to go by train to Dusseldorf at 5:40. At 7:25 Henry and I walked Elisabeth to the tram stop, about a ten minute walk, so she could meet an 8th grader to accompany her to school. It was still quite dark when I kissed her goodbye at 7:40. Then Henry and I walked through the woods to kindergarten. I w

as second-guessing my decision to go through the woods as it was still rather dark there. It isn’t animals I’m worried about. But we made it just fine, and Henry was the most comfortable he’s ever been, saying goodbye. As I left there at 8:00, I saw a child’s father leave the kindergarten wearing his suit and long wool coat. Holding his briefcase he jumped on his bike and, sitting quite upright, pedaled off to work. I love living here. I love how natural it is to take a bike wherever you need to go, from age three to seventy-three.

In an hour or so I will ride my bike ten minutes to the grocery store. This is nothing like riding to the store in The Woodlands. I am not sure of the difference, but perhaps it is because it is so natural to ride to the store here. Everyone has baskets on the front and/or back of their bikes. Some have panniers too. One day I saw a woman riding with o

ne hand on the handlebars and another holding a 24 pack of toilet paper onto the back rack of her bike. I have 2 panniers from our France cycling days and so they are a bit more sporty looking than what I see here, but I can hold quite a lot in them, plus the basket on top. Sometimes I still overfill, but I’m learning. It seems that if I buy a baguette, it will rain. But the crust is so crispy it is impermeable for the time it takes me to get home.

My mom left today after being here for three weeks. Before she came, whenever I encountered a tough situation or was tired or wished the house were more settled I would say, “Well, at least my mom is coming soon.” Sniff sniff. I can’t say that anymore! But I do have lots of reminders around the house of my parents‘ presence (my dad was here for one week as well). We hung pictures, curtains (which she made), organized the kitchen utensils (the fewer drawers you have, the more organization is required--I have three drawers), made the game room into a cozy, comfortable place to be . . . We enjoyed lots of cups of tea or coffee with pastries, and shared frustration over Henry’s tantrums as well as brainstormed solutions. I will miss her companionship very much and look forward to the next visit.

I thought that we would go biking while she was here, but that wasn’t to be. Dad actually helped me buy my bike on his first full day here. John had decided that as a Stevens, I should have a Stevens bike. Yes, there is a bike maker with the name Stevens. So I went to one of the few shops that sells them here, and tried out bike after bike. I suppose I have become picky with bikes like I am with shoes. Soon the shop owner’s wife was telling me that they could exchange a bar here, and a handlebar there, and viola, I had a bike I loved. I sit very upright, and it is woman’s frame, which is a nice change from my mountain bike which I never took on a mountain. After it was all equipped, I sent Dad home via tram with the new bike pump and I headed home with my iPhone Google Maps to tell me the directions home. I felt like I was getting to know my new city all over again. It was about a forty minute bike ride and I went a completely different way than the trams go (I had set the directions on walking route). The first half of the ride was along the Eilenriede which is also known as the Green Lung of Hannover--a large forest that runs through the city. It was a lovely ride which I haven’t repeated yet, but look forward to more exploring as we are here longer.

After I got home Elisabeth, Henry and I went to the bakery. Mom was going to start preparing dinner and the kids needed to get out for a bit, so I thought it would be a good diversion. Elisabeth rode her bike, Henry scooted along on his. We have removed the pedals so he can learn to balance by scooting along with his feet. Around here many kids skip the training wheels and go straight to a scooter bike that is very small but can help them learn to balance early. Many at age three or four are riding regular bikes without training wheels. I decided I better walk since Henry is still unpredictable on his bike. We made it to the bakery uneventfully, with Elisabeth riding far ahead, but asking me each time, “Can I ride ahead to the light/street/bakery?” On the way home we went through the woods which is sort of a long-cut, but a nice change and not busy. Elisabeth asked if she could ride ahead and I kept giving her stopping points. Henry was losing enthusiasm for his bike and I was beginning to think it would be a long right home. We were at the last right turn of the woods, a straight path that would take us to the neighborhood, and I gave Elisabeth permission to go ahead, assuming she would wait at the next turn. But she didn’t. Henry and I got to the edge of the woods, but no Elisabeth. I called her name, hoping she had taken the same route we had taken, but there was no answer. One half of me said not to worry, she always knows which way to go, but the other half of me said, “Be anxious! She might be lost! Be alarmed and jump ahead to the next step! Call your mom!” So I called my mom and said, “Keep a look out for Elisabeth. She’s gotten ahead of us. Let me know when she gets home.” I neglected to tell her in which direction to keep an eye out. And Mom, being that we are related, also took drastic measures and jumped ahead to the next step. She began walking (I would find out later) in the opposite direction Elisabeth was coming from, towards the main street. Moments later, I found Elisabeth, waiting two turns ahead. I scolded her and told her to hurry home and tell Grandmere that I had sent her home. I hurried Henry along as best as I could but by the time I got home, what I had feared, had happened. Mom had left to go look for us, Elisabeth was home, reading comfortably. I looked at Dad with alarm, but he said, “Don’t worry! Mom’s a grownup.” I raced off on my brand-new bike, going to rescue Mom from her alarm. Because at this point, that was the worst problem. I am imagining what Mom is imagining--Elisabeth kidnapped on the road between the tram and our house. Elisabeth taken . . .Mom was nearly to the tram stop by the time I caught up on my bike. We began walking home and I explained the whole crazy situation and we agreed Elisabeth needed to learn about safety and needed some talking to. Then Mom wanted to look at my new bike and asked if she could ride it. “Sure,” I said. Now, Mom has a way of getting on a bike which has always amused me, but actually is practical. A part of her method is used often around here, but one part is not. She put her left foot on the left pedal and then used her right foot to push on the ground on the left side of her bike. Then she swung her right leg over the back of the bike, intending to set it on the right pedal, now that she had some momentum. But my bike has a basket on the back, and her leg couldn’t quite clear that. (What I see other basketed bike riders do is bring the right foot in front of the seat). So Mom’s leg bumped the basket, and then somehow her jacket got caught on the seat. Not only had she lost her usual smooth rhythm of mounting a bike, but just then the road sloped down to our left and Mom followed that slope and went down, down, all of her with the bike, to the ground. It was one of those split second events that last forever and I couldn’t help. She had hit her head on the stone wall and I didn’t know if she would get up. I tried to help her but she just said, “Oh my arm! Oh my head!” Then a lady came by on her bike and asked in German if she could help us. I just looked bewildered and said, “I don’t know” which is an easy way of saying, “Do you speak English?” She asked again, in English this time, and that was enough motivation to help Mom decide that she didn’t need help, so very slowly she got up. We thanked the young woman for stopping and she went on her way, after asking a few more times if Mom was okay.

Bike and Mom made it safely home, but Mom had to miss out on the next day’s sightseeing in order to recover. The consequence of this little episode, other than the sore arm and back muscles, was that if she ever ran ahead or wasn’t holding onto the bar on the tram when it was in movement I would say, “Be careful!” or “Hold on!” This did not serve to help her feel any younger. But I am happy to report that after a day of recovery she was in much better shape . . .but that was our only biking experience this fall.