I started the weekend with a list of possible places to visit. My friend, Susan Good, suggested Bad Kissingen, her grandmother’s home town. Our guide to Berlin suggested Sommerhausen, Bayreuth, Rotherburg ob der Tauber and the students suggested Nuremberg and Wurzburg. I researched all of them and put them in order by my preference in case I didn’t have time to visit them all. On Friday I bought my all day pass at the Schweinfurt train station and found the train to Winterhausen (no station in Somerhausen). Sommerhausen and Winterhausen used to be one town, separated by the Main River, named Ahausen. The settlers distinguished their respective villages by their patron saints–St. Bartholomew and St. Nicholas. Since St. Bartholomew’s patronal festival was in summer and St. Nicholas’ was in winter, the names became Sommerhausen and Winterhausen.
The train stopped in Winterhausen at what used to be the station and is now a residence. I stepped out of the train onto a platform to find that I had no cell service…so picture this…I’m by myself in my lavender hat with a back pack; a camera, binoculars and my cell phone around my neck; no physical map; and I cannot communicate in German. I began walking toward the church bells that ring every quarter hour until I saw a sign pointing across a highway bridge toward Sommerhausen. I followed the highway across the river and the first street on the other side of the bridge led me to Sommerhausen. Phew!
This area is very simply beautiful. It has been wine country for centuries so the hills beyond the town are covered in vineyards and there are wine shops and wine bars scattered in the town. The medieval wall surrounding Summerhausen has been very well preserved. It is a romantic old village with (still) occupied towers and gates (parts of the wall). The blue tower (named for its blue tile roof) was once a jail and is now an artist’s residence.
I followed a walking tour from the tourist office around and through the village and also did some wandering on my own. Behind every gate (and the gates are of all shapes and sizes) or fence, I found a garden and plenty of pollinators. Most of the gardens grow vegetables and some flowers, but some are all flowers, some all roses, and some only vegetables.
Along one street was a small shelf with a half dozen plastic containers of cherries, an open box with “frie” above it and a box for euros. I tried one cherry, found it quite sweet and good, and bought a container, putting my 2,5 euros in the box. Oh, for the simple joy of trusting your neighbor!
There are many artist galleries here and I stopped in some to visit–no room to bring home souvenirs. The art is unique, not the kind that looks made for tourists. In addition to visual artists, musicians and writers have also settled in the small picturesque town. I could go on and on about the pleasantries in this village…
I walked a few meters along the river, but this side of the river is too close to the noisy highway so I crossed the highway bridge again and followed a bike path on the Winterhausen side of the Main River. 
I heard many birds, but could only identify by sight Egyptian geese, magpies and a delicate coal tit (much like our chickadee). As I walked along the path, I thought about birding by ear and realized it is just as difficult to understand the German birds as to understand the German people–takes practice! For most of my walk out from Winterhausen I could not see the river except for where there was a well-worn path which I took down to the water’s edge. 
As I walked I enjoyed the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the old-growth trees along the river. I was at peace. When the path reached the highway, I turned around and followed a different path to Winterhasen, between fields and an old apple orchard with a few young plum trees. I saw a field of Swiss chard, a field of clearly non-GMO wheat (only a foot high), and another field of a different grain that I couldn’t identify.
I re-traced my steps to the train station where there was a poster of departure times to Wurzburg and I was minutes away from the next train. I climbed on at the platform, gratefully sat in what felt like a luxurious seat, and ate my delicious cherries.
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