More happy wandering, but it balances the intensity of the cruxing and whipping scenes, and I think hints are being dropped of future possibilities - as you'll see at the end of this bit 
On an impulse I stopped, I bent down and took off my shoes. I stowed them in my backpack and ran on barefoot. Aunt Annie smiled at me: "Yes, it was here, the pic that Langmuth took of you -" she looked a little wistful, "back then you were a little mouse." She hugged me. I saw Dorothea bend down and take off her shoes.
"This time I did it more conveniently," I said, "I’ve got my right hand free as I don’t have to carry the shoes, they’re in my backpack, and my left hand’s free too – no plaster of Paris!" Auntie laughed. We walked on. Beyond the flat, marshy valley the path bore to the left and forked at Herthener Cross. To the right it led to Hundsbach and on to Herlingerstadt, to the left lay the way into the Herthener Forest. We struck off to the left, but not before Doro and I had had to stand before the 18th century crucifix and smile for Aunt Annie and her camera. Oh Auntie! If you knew what was going through my head at the sight of such crosses! I just think to myself, not those disgusting nails, and why shouldn’t a female have be on the crucifix? There were some, Saint Eulalia, for example.
"You’ve taken your shoes off too!" said Aunt Annie to Dorothea.
"What Thusnelda may do, I shall do," said Doro laughing.
Aunt Annie laughed - "Thusnelda?"
"That’s her real name!" Doro put her arm round me and hugged me. "Isn't that true, cousin?"
"No way!" I cried like a shot, "Not for me, Mrs. Raspberry-Gooseberry!"
Auntie took some more photos, then it was off to the left. The paths in the Herthener Forest were heavenly - soft and springy, sometimes covered with old leaves, sometimes overgrown with moss, or just sandy. In the deep, powdery sand it felt best. We observed where the ant-lions [like doodle-bugs] had dug their small tunnels in the sand to lie in wait for passing ants. When an ant comes by such a tunnel the ant-lion grabs it from below with its pincer-antennae then slides the unfortunate ant down into the tunnel. End of ant.
Aunt Annie took a tin cup from Dorothea's backpack and dug out an ant-lion. It’s an insect that lives in the earth and feeds on minibeasts that came close to its self-dug tunnel. She put the creature on a stone and photographed it, then she put it back in its hole. It was very upset and immediately went to work to renovate its sand trap.
In Herthen, the small village in the woods, Aunt Annie turned her camera on the beautiful old houses, crouching low on the ground, and the farms with their old barn doors, the old school where no classes had been held for years, and the village well. In the middle of the village we crossed a hump-bridge with parapets made of Linsbach stone, and a cobbled surface. Auntie told us to get up on the parapet and sit on it, it was hardly a metre high.
"In the old days children used to play here, just like you," she said, "barefoot, kiddies’ feet grow quickly, it was too expensive to keep buying you new shoes. You two look pretty old-fashioned, that suits the bridge. It’s a pity your clothes aren’t right though, a hundred years ago there were no denim skirts, and could only the super-rich people could afford silk blouses or wearing posh shoes – a pity." She sighed. "I’d like to dress you in some beautiful old-fashioned clothes. That would look really good in the photos."
I was thrilled, "We can do it, auntie! We’ll come again next Sunday and Doro and I can bring old-fashioned looking dresses, maybe even two or three sets - skirts, blouses, shirts and dresses. I could wear my linen dress that I've sewn myself, it looks like in the old days. Doro’s got stuff like that too.”
"That would be great," my cousin went on, "we could walk to all the villages around Spuhl, where there are beautiful old buildings and monuments like this bridge or the village well, and you can take pics of us."
Aunt Annie was delighted, "That would be really nice, we should do it. When we’re tired, we can take the bus or the train home."
We walked on, left Herthen behind us and plunged into the woods again. Of course, we didn’t not walk along the made-up road but on forest tracks. After half an hour we reached the forest cafe at the main junction, only a single narrow asphalt road ran past it. The other tracks, which came from several directions, were all rough. They were ready to serve us in the café garden. Dorothea and I washed our feet at the fountain, then we sat down at a table at the edge of the square, where we had a lovely view over the small pond where ducks and geese were swimming. My cousin and I were still barefoot, we didn’t even think of putting our shoes back on. We ordered coffee and cake and it tasted good.
A couple in their thirties left the table next to ours to ramble further, they were wearing backpacks, fashionable trekking clothes, and walking sandals on their bare feet. When I saw the man's feet, I thought he was a werewolf, totally hairy! On the instep of his foot he had real fur! But what really caught my eye were his toes just like my cousin he had rococo feet. The toe next to the big toe was a bit longer, like on those old pictures by famous artists from the past. Doro had probably inherited this rare foot shape – but who from? From her father or her mother? I didn’t know. Although Aunt Annie went barefoot quite often at home, I’d never looked closely at her feet, I just knew she never painted the nails, because she thought it ridiculous. At the moment I could not see anything because she was wearing laced-up, lightweight hiking boots of a well-known brand. Funny what one thinks about when one is drinking coffee, I thought. I looked after the hikers, they were making their way up the path towards Linsdorf. Aunt Annie noticed me looking.
"They’re heading for Linsdorf…" she said, shoving a piece of cheesecake in her mouth. "Mmm! Delicious! The Forest Cafe has the best cakes in the world!" She chewed and swallowed and waved the cake fork in the direction of the disappearing hikers. "They’ll probably go on from Linsdorf to Kehlwangen, to the chapel, it’s been opened again recently, they’ve completed the renovation of the old stained glass."
"The Blessed Virgin chapel?" said Dorothea, "That was only going to be ready in September, it said in the newspaper."
Aunt Annie swallowed her cake, "You know, the windows weren’t as bad as they originally thought, just dirty, they could be cleaned easily. But they were filthy, consider all the smoke of the candles over a hundred years. The chapel was, I believe, built in 1872, during the Kulturkampf [anti-clerical legislation of Bismark]."
Dorothea looked at me, "We can go there next week. From Spuhl we’ll take the train to Kehlwangen, we can to walk home at least part of the way. The stained glass windows are great. Not with strange contorted figures like on windows from the Middle Ages, they look absolutely photo-realistic in the Blessed Virgin Chapel. I’ll bring my camera with me, I’ll need to photograph the reflections, now they’re restored again, previously there was hardly any light through the blackened windows."
After tea we headed back on the track. We went back by a different route, we took the forest path to Fronbach and from there we went back via Lemmern to Spuhl. Fronbach was behind a wooded hill in a wide valley of pastures and orchards. Fronbacher plum brandy is famous. In a small factory on the outskirts they distill the juice of the fruit from orchards around the village. The factory is an old-fashioned building from the nineties of the century before last, only the machines in it are new and modern. There were lots of pictures for Aunt Annie to take, the factory, the village church and the fountain. Many beautiful fountains are to be found around Spuhl. "We should shoot here next Sunday too," I suggested, leaning against the base of the fountain. Above me crouched a fierce looking lion that guarded the stone trough below. He had unfortunately got a good deal of bird-shit on his head, but if the camera’s held right....
Beyond Fronbach our route went slightly uphill into the Lemmerner forest. There, we came suddenly on a very rough road.
"My god," I grumbled. "tracks like this spoil the beautiful forest trail, it looks disgusting!"
"They regularly use heavy forestry machinery here," said Aunt Annie. "where the road’s not solid, they dig deep into the forest floor. I bet it feels disgusting to walk on?"
"Oh what the hell," I said and walked bravely forward, Dorothea also strode on with contempt for danger, we held our arms around each other for balance, yet we still wobbled. I tried to stride along head upright like a princess, I was an elf-princess. The sharp flints under my bare feet were hurting quite a lot, but I decided to enjoy it, at least it was a little pain on that cross-and-bondage-free Sunday.
"You’re striding along like young goddesses," cried Aunt Annie laughing, "Ye are my proper children of nature! Like those shepherdesses who race barefoot every year in some remote places over the stubble. I’m going to snap your games here!" She ran one step ahead and turned as we walked arm in arm, laughing, over the stony ground. My aunt shook her head in disbelief.
"How come you're coping? That's real foot-torture! How did you get into that?" She looked at her daughter and smiled, "Are you still torturing Lisette?”
"Oh yes," was Dorothea’s sharp-witted reply, "normally she comes on walks with me with her hands tied behind her back. Unfortunately I left the cord at home - damn!"
Nice!
