Non-liturgical observances of a national holiday

One of the curious-to-me things about Germany is that, while census-tallied identification with Christianity is much lower than in the U.S., major liturgical holidays remain red-letter days on the calendar. For those of you who aren't high-churchy or medievalists, Ascension Day was this past Thursday, so I sought out some pleasantly open-air, heathenish way of observing it. And so (along with groups of mostly middle-aged Germans) I decided to take this all-archives-closed opportunity to fulfill a long-cherished ambition: taking a long bike ride along the Rhine. This plan was nearly scuppered before it started, as my hastily-packed pullover slipped down into the bike gears (!) and stopped the back wheel in its tracks. I angrily schlepped the thing into the bike compartment of the regional train I was bound for, received the sympathy of fellow-cyclists, and received gratefully the offer of a pair of scissors from another woman's kit. With the help of that scissors, and the helpful kibitzing of the rest of the cyclists, I had the thing in working order again just as we reached Bingen. Several had opined that, even if I got the fabric free, I wouldn't be able to fix the gears because of their age, but: 'Kann nicht' geht nicht; I was not going to be done out of my excursion. A park guard who saw me cautiously testing the gears volunteered a reassuring confirmation that everything looked secure, and a very welcome opportunity to wash my grease-covered hands. And so… I was off!

This crane, in Bingen, dates to the 18th century… but as early as the 15th, Mainz's cathedral chapter controlled one here.

This region has been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. For fairly obvious reasons, as well as less obvious ones. Look at those vineyards!

And castles! (Burg Pfalzgrafenstein on the island, and, I think, Burg Katz.) This barge was called the Stella Maris.

The Loreley! Although the Gipfel des Berges was obviously not doing any sparkling in this weather, I sang at it ceremonially.

By this point in the journey, I was feeling that my exertions deserved some photographing of mile-markers. 

This charming house...

It's a truism that seeing a place through someone else's eyes can help you see it more clearly. But I found this proved again last month. It helps that the refreshing vision belonged to one of my dearest friends, whose perspective I value in any case. (Left: a stop on our Easter Sunday stroll.) We had a lovely almost-two-weeks exploring the Rheinland and beyond. I was honored and touched to be the recipient of a visit, delighted to serve as semi-cicciarone. On our first day, as we stood in the rose garden, she said "I'd like to take a picture of this charming house!" I craned my neck, gazing up and down the street. "Which charming house?" "This one. The one you live in." Oh. I'm guilty of more often seeing its lack of lightbulbs, or cobweb-collecting corners, than its charm. But I was chastened and encouraged simultaneously, and was inspired to taking the following photos while on walks through Bischofsheim in subsequent days. It may be only a Schlafdorf, but it is, after all, my Schlafdorf.