A good friend and her family came to visit us the other weekend; she is a kindred spirit, in the way that she sees herself as a fellow gnome, not of the wood variety, but a common village gnome. You know that sort, when you have a closer look at your neighbours and wonder why some always seem to wear a scarf up to their eyes or a cap deep into their face, moving a bit awkwardly and often mumbling under their breath while hurrying down the road? They're hiding their ears and are not to be mistaken with garden gnomes. Entirely different species.

Now, that friend was sitting her exams a few weeks ago in Average Gnome Customs and for the practical part she made a pair of mist-proof boots for me out of random findings.

She sent them to be with the plea to road-test them and film the tryout for further improvements.

Which I did. They consisted of a pair of excruciatingly beautiful pink, flowered thongs, two large plastic bags and a pair of straps to secure the construction right under the knee. It must have looked awesome when I stepped into our local rivulet to see if they are actually not only mist - but waterproof. Which they were. Thumbs up, they worked very well and I was very pleased to call them my own.

Unfortunately I managed to delete the filmed proof somehow and when my friend wanted to see evidence of my tests I had to admit that she would have to rely on my word only. Now, village gnome are highly suspicious creatures, and I fear she didn't trust me to the degree I'd have liked to. What was to do, in the middle of the night, our husbands in the thick of an extended wine tasting and her daughter already gone to sleep?

Sure, we had to repeat it all. So off we went, armed with torches, the camera and the boots, into the forest, down to the rivulet, on went the boots, into the stream ( cosy 5°C cold ) and my friend stood next to me on dry grounds, giggling madly, jumping up and down and snapping the whole thing. I do hope nobody saw us there, or else the rest of what little reputation I have left is gone with the winds.

But my friend was extremely proud of me and promised never to doubt my word ever again. For proof see below.

Autumn Colours

What an amazing ..... well, what is it? A Tractor Cabrio? Made some heads turn around for sure and looks like real fun.

Regent to the left, Silvaner to the right (grapes, that is).

No more hand picking, these giant machines to all the hard work these days. They are enormous, and so loud! The vines are shaken and the grapes fall on a conveyer belt that carries them on to a trailer.

Given the special climate in our area, sweet chestnuts grow here by the thousands. Like many other things, the Romans brought them here and apart from me and the other hundreds of people that plough up the grounds in search of the biggest and sweetest chestnuts every September/October, the wild boars are eternally thankful, too.

Goes without saying. We used to turn those into itching powder when I was a kid.

It's an amazing sight when the grape leaves start to change their colour, depending on the variety from a light yellow to a deep red. The village here is Leistadt, beautifully situated at the corner of the forest, overlooking the vinyards down to the Rhine plains.

Kallstadt; in the distance Herxheim am Berg. We have cosy wine village like these by the dozen.

Part of the old outer fortification walls of our Wachenheim castle. I lived just 150m downhill to the right.