Continued from Banishment to Switzerland
The Swiss landscape mended Yry’s soul. Arosa is tiny village nestled in a valley shadowed by a chain of ancient granite peaks, the largest thrusting to over 8,000 feet. The region is a mixture of calendar-green alpine pastures, forests, glacial lakes, and foothills that decorate the feet of the icy alps. The nascent ski industry was born here. Yry had traveled around southern Germany with her parents, vacationing in Bavaria and in the Black Forest, but she had never spent extended time in such grandiose mountains as these.
The brilliance of Arosa washed sadness away. Linen-clean air tickled Yry’s nose hairs and planted the seed for a lifelong reverence of nature. Sunshine glinted off dazzling peaks set against a bluer than blue sky. On some days, magnificent clouds thundered up around the peaks, ballooning and shape-shifting, omens of storms that would soon unleash more snow on the valley. The school was administered by nuns. The other children that shared her fate ranged in age from five to fourteen. Two or three kids were assigned to each bedroom. No lit candles were allowed in the rooms at night. The frail children needed plenty of rest. Long sunny afternoons lying on the sun decks were prescribed, as well as sleigh rides, tobogganing, and ice skating—and with arrival of spring— brisk hikes.
She was unfazed by the incredible cold of Arosa. It was a different flavor of cold than what she’d experienced before. She knew it was very cold because her breath hung in foggy puffs, and ice crystals floated in the air. This was a crisp, dry cold, that nipped exposed skin but failed to penetrate deep into the bones like the damp, foggy cold she had known in Germany and England. This cold was fun! It transformed the world into a magical dreamscape dotted with white, puffy pillows where rocks had been. Instead of looking barren and naked, the trees and bushes sported diamond-studded coats of frost. Water froze in its tracks, trapped waterfalls formed fanciful ice statues that stood in awkward arabesques, waiting for spring to breathe life into them.
Easter eased in a slow transformation. Frozen brooks began to trickle icy cold water. Waterfalls danced to life, still decked in fanciful trimmings of glassy rock jewelry and hoar-frost hair. Tiny rivulets of water descended from the peaks above, gathering force as they approached the green pastures below. In protected nooks the sun kissed tender buds of early crocuses; they responded with masses of color to announce spring. The cheerful chirping and twittering of song birds broke winter’s silence, as they preened their feathers in golden rays of sun. In Arosa, children shed layers of protective clothing as their hikes ranged further.
It was also good for Yry to be in the company of children, as till this time she’d spent much of her life with adults. One of Yry’s friends was a little girl called Frieda from the nearby village of Chur, Switzerland. Frieda was several years younger than Yry. Having this little girl tagging after her with the awe that younger children often shower on older kids was good for Yry’s bruised ego. The down side of little followers, she learned, was that you had to pay attention to what the little buggers were up to. Her most prized possession was a very chic pair of sunglasses that Norah had sent from Mainz. Imitation is the highest compliment, but Yry’s patience was tested the day Frieda donned those sunglasses and they slid off her tiny face and shattered on the stone patio.
Linda, it is marvelous how the beauty and crisp dry cold weather had a positive effect. I keep drifting into thoughts of The Sound of Music vistas. Also, the stability knowing she was safe. I am enjoying the Yry’s saga. Keith
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Thanks, Keith. You’ve become my most faithful and loyal follower. I appreciate every one of your comments. I guess she was safe in Arosa. As safe as any child ever is.
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Wow I didn’t know about most of her childhood you’ve been so eloquently describing. Certainly gives me a glimpse into the reason for what we thought were some of her foibles! But what an interesting, complex person it created!
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Her history really does help explain her complex foibles. I think the times contributed to her interesting history. I bet there are some pretty interesting stories in your dad’s background too. But not many people to mine them from and probably not the stacks and drawers full of letters and photos to draw on.
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I could certainly relate to this post on Arosa, Switzerland, Linda. We live just a 5-minute walk from Lake Winnipeg, and spring is very slow transformation here, too. the ice is very slowly receding and it keeps our temperature several degrees below the nearest city. Interesting post and pics. Thx so much for sharing.
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And I’m sure you get tired of the long cold season. No wonder you enjoy those excursions to Mexico so much! Great way to thaw out.
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Wow this was another wonderful episode! Can’t wait to see what happens with her glasses!
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Well, I’m afraid the glasses broke. I’m sure there were no replacements in the future. Sunglasses were not that common in those days, and her parents would not have considered buying her another pair if she “couldn’t take better care of them.” Besides, more changes were just around the corner….;-)
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wow waiting!
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I would think nothing is like the Swizz landscape when it comes to heal troubled souls. Another captivating episode of the life of Yry. So well written.
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Thanks Otto. Your attention, so sought after, is highly appreciated.
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Linda your story telling and love for nature brings the beauty of Arosa to life. This place seems the healing balm that Yry needed to endure the future.
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Thanks for such a balming comment! 😉
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Beautifully written, Linda! The place surely is captivating, but so is your writing. 🙂
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Ah thanks Nandini. You’re so kind.
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You too 🙂
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Wonderful writing and nostalgic images.
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Thanks for investing the time to read! I appreciate it.
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