Leavenworth

It was a perfectly warm spring weekend and the itch to get out was irresistible. After a hurried brunch of sandwiches at a nearby Italian cafe, we headed towards the mountains. I don't know if it is just me or the lingering restlessness, but there is something very inspiring and equally heartbreaking to see the snow melt and leave the mountain tops bald and barren. Sure, it is a sign of change and a symbol of continuity - the two paradoxes on which the world spins - but while continuity is assuring, change is most often intimidating. Well, at the first sight at least. Today, we wanted to embrace this contradicting mood of mother nature. And what better place to do this than the charming Bavarian village of Leavenworth, tucked among the alpine woods of eastern Washington.

Where the snow clad mountains rest. Where it is Christmas year long in an itsy-bitsy corner. Where giant pretzels grow on trees. Where old Dickensian curiosity shops line the main street. Where the towering, timber-framed beauty of Bavarian architecture takes your breath away. Where quaint mural walls pave the way to a little pharmacy on the top. Where an old willow showers its spring smiles while waiting for yet another garb of greens.

  

But in my heart I wished it was late spring or summer and there were hanging baskets of petunias and bushels of geraniums everywhere. When it looked something like this...