Hechendorf statt Herrsching

When we visit Steinebach, E and I usually try to go for at least one long walk together. On Winter Solstice, because it was supposed to be the only non-rainy afternoon all week, we attempted to walk from Steinebach to Herrsching. Turns out weather forecasts aren't always accurate when Föhn is involved. It was still raining as we naively set forth, confident the clouds would soon part. Then it rained, and then it rained some more. By the time we made it to Hechendorf--less than halfway to Herrsching--we were ready to hop on the S-Bahn. Indeed, we tried--but in trying, we managed to get the single train ticket machine to freeze up, and while we were occupied pushing the machine's screen and buttons, contemplating defying the rules and just getting on the train anyway (in Germany! where children might be watching!), the rain appeared to stop, so we gave up and resolved to walk. Except that we had been standing under a roof, and the rain hadn't actually stopped. Heading back into the rain, we yielded: cold and wet, we walked back to Steinebach instead of to Herrsching. By the time we returned, the rain had stopped. Given that it's hard to find a better way to spend time with your kid than going for a long walk, the rainy afternoon still gets two thumbs up.

Here are some of the sights we saw:

Need eggs, but the store is closed? Trot on down to your neighborhood farm and buy eggs from Anita's coin-operated egg dispenser inside the Eierhuett'n. No, we didn't buy eggs on our hike, but we did take advantage of the dispenser the next morning. "It wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be," said E.

By the way, what's that in E's hand in the Eierhuett'n photo? Why, that's the last remaining half of a chocolate-glazed Elisenlebkuchen from Lebkuchen-Schmidt in Munich. We had purchased a bag of supposedly defective ones, because they're significantly less expensive than the non-defective ones. In the name of research, the three of us tried to figure out how they were defective by eating every single one in its entirety within three days. We have no clue what was wrong with any of them, but we'll be sure to collect more data the next time we're in Munich.

We're in rural Bavaria, where farmers regularly use electric fences. Cows sometimes have other plans:

Across from the cow: Bavaria wins when it comes to lone-tree-on-a-hill photo ops.

The cow was out, but the deer were in: one stag, several does, and several fawns, all with tagged ears. I've never seen farm-raised deer before.