Pea Soup Productions Presents

Snow on New Year’s Day, they said. Proper Winter to make an appearance, finally, at the crack of 2016, they said. What we’ve got instead is fog, grizzly drizzle and all the cheeriness of a Siberian laundry  with the heating up the creek.

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WW1 Memorial in my village

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Have I depressed you quite enough yet..? Welcome to the club!

Wait… maybe some spiritual guidance to lift our mood? I’ve got just the thing: Last week, while the weather was still nice and sunny, I came across this saucy lady on one of my walks:

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This being Bavaria, there’s thousands of Madonnas everywhere, perched on pedestals, squeezed into grottos and stuck to the lower echelons of crucifixes, but they don’t usually wear bright red undergarments, nor red lipstick, like this one. Whory Mary…!

This is how my village looked last year at this time of year: What a difference!

42 thoughts on “Pea Soup Productions Presents

      1. Pecora Nera

        We have a wonderful wine called Nebbiolo, Nebbia is Italian for fog. So you can imagine how bad it gets here if they name the local wine after it.

        I haven’t found a wine called nice calm Italian women 😇

        Liked by 2 people

  1. heatherinde

    “All the cheeriness of a Siberian soup kitchen” = stunningly accurate. We got enough snow here this morning that our landlady (who doesn’t live here and shows up once a year, give or take), made sure to knock on our door to tell us to shovel it. When BV didn’t leap into action, she did half of the sidewalk, but only just from the driveway to the corner… not around the corner and along the side of the house. He went out about 30 minutes later, when she told him again how important it was. *rolls eyes so hard they’re still stuck somewhere*

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      1. heatherinde

        I told BV that the given the amount and subsequent rain, that as a Wisconsinite who barely moves for less than 8 inches of snow, I wouldn’t even bother shoveling it. It would’ve melted by the end of the day (and did, along the house before he went out). That lady makes me crazy.

        Liked by 3 people

  2. joannesisco

    I love fog. I love the ethereal quality the fog gives everything – shrouded in mystery. I’m waiting for the unexpected to happen.
    … but then again, maybe I’ve watched too many mysteries on TV 😉

    Liked by 2 people

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      1. Kim G

        This reminds me of the Jesus joke, popular in gay circles in the ’80’s. (Caution: offensive.)

        What did Jesus say to Mary while hanging on the cross?

        Mary! Get me some sensible pumps; these spikes are killing me!!!

        Like

  3. Carissa Hickling

    I can imagine remaining in indoors with a cracking fire, robust soup, fresh home made bread would be the solution. Or maybe a hot toddy. 🙂

    You COULD always escape to sunny strolls along the beach here in Bombay… barefoot… just sayin’ 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
      1. Carissa Hickling

        There is something appealing about autumn… that chill in the air that isn’t yet miserably cold… all those gorgeous fall colours… However I still enjoy being able to walk in sandals to the beach or a nearby outdoor pool for a splish splash in the sun! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  4. bevchen

    It’s still beautiful even without the snow. The fog makes everything look very mysterious!
    Basel had rain on New Year’s Eve, but thankfully not so much that we couldn’t enjoy the fireworks.

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  5. Kim G

    Well, after an absurdly warm Xmas, winter has finally hit here. It has been snowing all day (though none has really stuck), and it’s forecast to get to 11° F tonight, brutally cold in my book, though about five or six degrees above normal.

    Nice photos.

    Saludos,

    Kim G
    Boston, MA
    Where we are itching to start our next Mexican trip.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  6. TheLastWord

    Everything was going so well…. until that madonna.

    Love those photographs, makes me think of hidden treasures yet unfound, promises hidden deep within oneself, mysteries and whispered nothings.

    uh…sorry about that poetic mumbling. A momentary lapse!

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