So, I had a couple of hours, inbetween rain showers and fast moving clouds for a bit of sketching and a bit of cloud gazing.
My mom when leaving: 'And you don't worry about bad people you may meet when you're on your own, Gesa?' - No, generally not, despite all the scare stories about the dark and moody heathlands, they are familiar ones.
But... in this case, I indeed better should. The nearest village? Gerdehaus. And Hetendorf isn't far either. Any more info you need? Try, this indymedia site here. Oh yes, the heather, the birch, the oak and our soil. And Nazi squatters.
They make me wonder if I do not misunderstand my field obsessions... looking for change and movement - it may be after all simply be about tradition, stability and something that hasn't changed all that much in over 70 years. And I have to think again of the so familiar euphemisms in use by my grandparents' generation to talk about their past.
Well: how to live among the fields, the heather and the woods?