Growing up I always knew when someone had looked up my phone number in the telephone book (I grew up in the dark ages before cell phones), because there’d be uncontrolled giggling on the other end before they could finally gasp out:

“Your dad’s name is W-w-wino!?!!?” Sigh. Yes, his name is Wino. But pronounced We-know. Short for Wijnandus.  It’s a strong Dutch name meaning “brave in battle”. Unfortunately it’s spelled just like Wino, meaning drunkard in English. Such is the bane of my existence. My dad doesn’t care. It’s his name, he loves it.

Last month my dad was here almost the entire time (Have Laptop, Will Travel). We spent a lot of it in the car, driving to Holland, back to Germany, to France (my sister lives in the south of France) and repeat. In between car rides & family visits, we spent time walking. It’s good to stretch the legs when you are sitting so much.

We especially walked a lot here, in my neck of the woods, the Schwarzwald, the black forest. Officially my house is in the middle of the black forest, in reality the only trees throwing shade on our house are the neighbors apple trees. We have to walk half a block, maybe a full block, to reach the forest.

The black forest is not actually black, from a distance it is a lush green with a mix of deciduous & conifer trees. Up close, under the canopy, it is a cool dark black as you look deeper into the forest. I have yet to be able to truly capture the beauty, the drama, in a photo.

When we first got here, we walked the paths almost every day. Sometimes all together, sometimes just me & Dave, once just Dave & Cole. On that walk, Dave & Cole heard a cuckoo clock. They thought it weird, to hear a cuckoo clock in the forest, but figured the forest rangers cabin was nearby. A little bit further on, they heard the cuckoo clock again. Since we didn’t really know the forest yet, they figured they were walking in circles and had passed the forest rangers cabin again.

But they couldn’t find the cabin. They couldn’t see it. And then, then the cuckoo clock cuckoo’d again. Dave stopped and counted cuckoo’s. Thirty. 30. Thirty cuckoo’s. And finally it dawned on them, it wasn’t a cuckoo clock. It was a cuckoo bird! We not only live in the black forest, but the black forest has real cuckoo birds!

My dad & I have yet to see a cuckoo bird, despite our many walks through the tall, cool trees. I’ve heard them, and I’ve probably seen them, but not quick enough to grab a photo. I always walk with my camera, just in case. It’s on my bucket list. On the last walk my dad & I took before he flew back to North Carolina, we still didn’t get a cuckoo bird photo. We did get a gorgeous sunset and, wonders never cease, my dad agreed to a selfie.