Austria makes things. Beeswax candles, wool socks, slippers, wine. Over the weekend we drove down South through Burgenland to Graz, where we lingered over glasses of Sturm in a bustling outdoor market square. Harvest festivals and artisans are everywhere at this time of year.
One can never have too many pairs of nice socks and shoes.
Wooden buckets of marinated, pickled things are so comforting!
A table was set up for kids to make sculptures out of homemade playdough. Eli made a snail.
The boys loved watching the woodworker shaving wood with his lathe. At least, I think that’s a lathe….
He was lathing in Birkenstocks. I wonder if he ever loathes to lathe.
Music played from a small stage by the dining tables, courtesy of a trio dressed in lederhosen and braids. The violins floated over plates of goulash and potato salad, and there were no plastic cups, plates, or forks anywhere. There is something so civilized, so Downton Abby, about eating picnic food with real dishes.
Or maybe the ambience comes from other features that make European cities so striking. Their design evokes such feelings of grandness, like a common goal connected to something greater than one’s self, that is passed through generations.
I love the way that people share moments.
And stop together to smell the beeswax.