Vision Quest

It’s Sunday and I’m out walking in the vineyards. I’m taking some pictures of the grapes. Just walking along, eating the occasional blackberries that I pick off of the bushes that border the vineyard. Yes, all is well with the world.

The sun’s out, but it’s not too hot. I had some bluty hash and eggs several hours ago. Did some cleaning, some laundry, and now I’m out for a leisurely walk. I’m communing with the grapes, and it looks like it may be a good year.

Exiting the vineyards, I amble down into the bucolic town of Hattenheim. I am admiring the half-timbered houses, and the stonework of the walls. I pass by the Weinpunkt, and wave to the Weinfrau inside.

Around the corner is a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for a car. Its eight foot stone walls are in remarkable condition, and the cobblestones under my feet provide a strange comfort to my steps. Yes, all is right in Hattenheim this fine day.

At the intersection, I turn left towards the Rhein. The stone walls are in turn replaced by the concrete abutments of the bridge that leads me under the highway. A child on a bicycle passes me. He’s racing his father through the tunnel. I smile.

Exiting from under the highway, I come up into the riverfront area. It’s a large field, with an occasional table and some benches along the river. There are many people out enjoying the day, some on blankets, some on lawn chairs, others just standing around talking as their dogs roll in the grass. Life is good here on the banks of the Rhein.

I turn to the left and there is a rather large group of people, not unwieldy mind you but significant in size, near the Weinprobierstand. I stroll over to the stand and, after waiting my turn, order a Trocken (dry) Riesling, a pretzel, and a piece of cheese. This particular Riesling comes from the Wisselbrunnen, a celebrated vineyard very close to where I started my little excursion today. I sit down at a bench nearby and begin to eat the warm, soft pretzel. I unwrap the cheese and take a bite. It’s delicious. A sip of the wein and I’m practically delirious in my contentment.

Invigorated from the walk, the cool breeze coming in off the river feels fantastic. There are children playing, pretty girls riding bicycles, elderly people sitting on benches. A glass of wein in one hand, I pet a chocolate Labrador Retriever with the other. Someone is painting a picture near the riverbank. I am feeling downright good, and quite possibly religious. With all that is right with the world, I am ready to believe in some heavenly power. At this very instant I want, more than anything, to believe in the divine majesty of the creator. With all the beauty I am surrounded by, how could anyone … uh … wait just one cotton pickin’ minute.

Just what in the name of all that is holy is that?

Once again, my faith was shattered. When I regained my vision, I slowly walked home a trembling, broken, almost lifeless, shell of a man.