Sunday Music

When I awoke this morning, I glanced at the clock that sits on the chair at the head end of my bed. It was early in the morning, all quiet, I shortly reflected about getting up but simply nodded off. When I awoke again, I learned to my amazement that more than an hour had passed. Just so. Gone. An hour of my precious life time spent in gracious unconsciousness in a warm bed while fresh clean air rushed in through the open window. All this time will never come back, eine Binse, a truism, I know.
It is the first day of autumn here. The light changed. All the leaves are still green, but it is not the ripe full green of early summer when all bursts with life, there is a tinge of yellow, more visible in some trees, less in others. No fallen leaves yet. Dramatic amassements of clouds – time to let a kite fly over stubble fields. To come home to a cup of hot cacao and a buttered roll, perhaps a Laugenbrötchen that comes with big chunky crystals of salt. (I, blushingly, confess to dunking.)
Today I finally took that thick envelope out of my letterbox. In September I will drive a new route, new kids, new co-driver, different point of compass, roads very different to what I had over the last six months. But all this & what is connected with it, will only next week be important, not now.
All different, all the same – another unbearable truism, sorry.
And because it is autumn & because I feel a bit melancholic, and because there is no trace of the promised final sprint of summer, and because time is such a cruel master, and just because ! – this Sunday Music is a bit longer : As The Years Go Passing By in the version of Mr Albert KING (Ger., Eng.) and Mr Rory GALLAGHER (Ger., Eng., site), recorded live in Montreux 1977 – hope you like it.
Here’s to a relaxed and peaceful week !

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Sunday Music

GOd, how lazy can a person become ?
Yes, I nursed a little cold. It grew and then I had to throw it out. I feel remarkably well since it left.
I also managed to walk to the library (at least twice !) in the last week, and even got some copies, local books and some from the inter-library system. Not that I have written something yet, but I may have it coming … I finally wrote, re-wrote and sent out the little blurb about the local shooting range.
Other activities included bank-stuff.
All in all it was a combined stretch of time of perhaps three hours of activity.
The rest – ? Reading, sleeping, watching clouds ? More or less so, nothing “productive”. Not one single boring minute.
Now I sit at my desk humbled. Humbled by an email I received earlier, out of which speaks a generous, warm, reflected person. Hug-accepting too.
Thank You.

Today’s Sunday Music is a worldly song by 16th century composer Orlandus di Lassus (Ger., Eng.), a madrigal titled Sto core mio.

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Sto core mio se fosse di diamante
Sarrìa spezzato per tanto dolore
Quanto ne provo e sento a tutte l’ore.

Et ben c’afflitto sia più c’altro amante
Tenga dolente e sconsolato il core
Pur non li manca spirto né vigore.

Ma quanto più patisce è più costante
Soffre il dolor se ben fosse maggiore
Di quel ch’io provo e sento a tutte l’ore.

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Even if my heart were made of diamond
It would splinter from the sharp payne
I feel and sense hour by hour.

Although I’m afflicted more than other lovers
My heart discouraged and reduced to sorrow
Nonetheless it does not lack neither strength nor spirit.

But how much it suffers and how steady
It would gladly bear an even greater payne
Than what I feel and sense hour by hour.

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There is a fourth verse about the lady who causes all this, but singer Renata FUSCO, together with the ensemble Conserto Vago lead by the lute player Massimo LONARDI (Eng.) (published 2006), decided to leave it out. I found no website of Ms FUSCO, only an interview in Italian from 2013.
I hope you like the music. May the coming week bring joy and happiness to all of us.

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Sunday Music

What a fine weekend, Monday included. Lazy in the sun. This evening the temperature dropped, rain is to be expected for the next few days, time to crawl in the house. The cellar waits to be explored, things and stuff must be taken in hand, and a decision whether to keep or to let go needs to be made. I have the feeling that more things will go than stay.
This Sunday Music is a title called Painting Box * by the Incredible String Band (Ger., Eng.), folksy types from Scotland, who seemingly hung around either the Hippie trail (Ger., Eng.) or Marocco, but they also made it to that farm in Woodstock. The background singer Christina McKECHNIE (Eng.) got seemingly lost sometimes in the late Eighties in Arizona, well after her time with the Incredible String Band.
I hope you like the music – love, peace & understanding !

* Track 3 on the A-side of The 5000 Spirits or The Layers of The Onion (Eng.) – yes, in those days lps still had titles !

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… bumblegrumble …

Ach … the clothes are in the machine which is quietly rumbling away. The room is cleared, reasonably, at least one can turn around without brushing stuff from tables – as if I had tables here – or move without raising plumes of dust. Things necessary are bought, even some unnecessary stuff, no need to go out then. Dishes washed, kitchen surfaces cleared, oh what a difference this makes ; bottles brought out.
Some things dealt with via computer, so even the desk appears to be less cramped, less paper.
Time to do something serious, like write this damn article. “… you’ll feel even better once you’ve got your article done …”, as IDV remarks absolutely aptly in the comments to the previous post, because only afterwards I can turn to the flotsam & jetsam. Good to learn btw that IDV’s blog is now reachable again, seemingly he has sorted his French troubles out.
“Write an article” – pfff, sounds a bit pompous, doesn’t it ?!
It’s just a very small scribble about a place here in the village. Promised the terrible text months ago to the friendly lady who runs this historical working group (“Arbeitskreis”) that prepares some notes about the must-see-attractions of the village. All in connection with the “Landesgartenschau” that will be held in the neighbouring “city”, and from what the adjacent villages wish to benefit in the form of visitors, tourists etc. This leads to general cleaning and brushing-up, planting of trees, revamping of garden benches, the demarcating of foot trails for avid wanderers including signs so that they don’t get lost in the Franconian wilderness. And when they stand at attractive points of interest they can point their smart phones on a sign with one of these squares that have a special name I forgot, get an internet connection and a smart voice (sometimes mine) explains what the wanderer sees – for example the “Roman Bridge“. Or tells what there is to know about the fountains – I happily got rid of this assignment – or the church, the library, you get the idea.
And I am stuck with the most unrewarding topic imaginable, even worse than the cemetery : Ein Schießplatz ! A military shooting range. Good GOd … I have a problem.
I can not think of one way to make this thing “attractive”. Especially because it is not used now for some years – the visitors will stand in front of a carefully closed metal gate decorated with a bit of rusty barbed wire – of the Nato kind with razor-blades, not the original German one.
The adjacent nice city on the banks of the river Main is today advertising itself with “Baroque” and “wine” – both things are fitting. But the city always had a military side too – remember that the most eye-catching building when you approach the town, is after all a fortress sitting on a hill over the civilian settlement. Through the nineteenth century, as Bavarian town, there was a garrison. And of course the military built-up in the 1930s did not pass the baroque beauty : New barracks, a large new military hospital, some bunkers were built in the area of the city – and a shooting range for small arms, Handfeuerwaffen (weapons you shoot while you hold them in your hands, like pistols and rifles, single action, half-automated, fully automated) was constructed on the Eastern area of this village.
On the Western side was an artillery shooting range that ignored the village’s borders. Now and then the cannoneers missed their targets and fired their grenades into the villagers’ gardens, GOd they had to learn somewhere, n’est-pas ?
The Schießplatz was used by the German Wehrmacht (“Where the fascist forces learnt their trade”- ?) until the end of the Wehrmacht. The place was put in use again by the Bundeswehr sometimes in the late fifties (I think) and at some (unknown) point taken over by the American Forces, until they relocated, reduced their forces and military bases in the whole of Germany and Middle Europe and regrouped worldwide. Then the Schießplatz was handed back via the German Federal State to the community, the village I live in – and since this day the village wonders what to do with that installation : Mountain bike fun arena ? Airsoft-blamm-splatter arena ? Just ignore and let it become a habitat for what-ever-wants-to-live-there ? No clue at all. Accepted all round is only that the public coffers are empty and that private housing is out of question.
And what do I tell the happy wanderers ? Ach …