My stride was sure. The grass was wet.
The kids were back at the apartment watching a movie.
Dani was asleep.
I had promised her forty-five minutes.
Then I slipped out the door.
The vineyards climbed the hillside in five enormous terraces, each held in place by a stone retaining wall nearly six feet high. Narrow service paths crossed each level before turning sharply upward again.
From below, the vines looked almost vertical, stacked one above another until they disappeared into the sky.
I was looking for a photograph.
It hung in our apartment kitchen: Bacharach from somewhere high in the vineyards.
The editing was terrible—oversaturated colors, halos around every roofline—but the view had stayed with me.
I wanted to find it.
~
I reached the Postenturm and climbed its wooden stairs.
At the top, I raised my camera.
The castle sat below me.
The Rhine stretched behind it.
I took a picture.
Then I turned toward the vineyards.
The next terrace was higher.
I climbed.
Three tiers up, benches appeared beside the path.
Poems about wine and grapes were carved into the stone retaining walls.
SLATE, SLOPES, AND VINE, TOWER, CITY, AND ALSO RIVER. THEY STORE THE SUN, THE MIDDAY, THE SUMMER, THE RAYS.
I stopped at one overlook and raised the camera again.
The vineyard now cascaded below me instead of above. The castle had flattened against the hillside.
I checked the screen.
Not right.
I kept climbing.
The sun softened behind the Rhine.
Another terrace.
An overlook.
A photograph.
The logs buried in the mud for traction continued upward.
The rows of grape vines towered over my head.
I checked the time.
Somewhere up there way my photo—another tier, maybe two.
I looked up.
Then back at the camera.
Its grip loosened in my hand.
When I opened the apartment door, darkness had set in the river valley.
The movie was still playing.
Dani was just beginning to wake.
The kids barely looked up
~
Two days later, we sat out again, this time as a family for one last hike to the Postenturm tower.
Both boys grabbed their wooden swords from the toy shop, and off we went.
The trail was damp, the air cold.
Sun-warmed stones and rain.
Corbin stopped almost immediately.
Dandelions covered the path.
He pulled one.
“No weeds.”
Another.
“No weeds.”
Another.
We waited.
He pulled another.
At home, he loved helping Dani with the yard. Here, there were millions of dandelions, and apparently every one of them needed his attention.
We started walking again.
He stopped.
Another flower.
By the time we reached the vineyards, our progress had slowed to a crawl.
Corbin looked up.
“Wait.”
He pointed at the vines.
“These are grapes?”
“Yes.” Dani said.
“Grape vines,” I corrected.
He stared across the hillside.
Rows of vines climbed one above another, disappearing around the bends in the mountain.
“Then, where’s the grapes?”
“Not yet.”
“But I want to eat them.”
Corbin tugged at a vine.
Nothing.
He checked the next one.
Nothing.
“Maybe this one has grapes.”
He reached for another, slowly twisting off a bud from under its leaves.
I reached for his hand to stop him from.
“Just leave it alone.”
Then Avery joined him.
“I want grapes too.”
We kept walking.
They searched every few yards.
At the tower, the boys forgot about grapes.
They ran screaming up the wooden stairs, wooden swords bouncing against their backs.
Dani and I followed more slowly.
“Careful.”
“Stay away from the edge.”
“Come back.”
They peered through the rails anyway.
We finally called them down.
Beneath the tower, I found an alcove with a bench facing town.
I searched for somewhere to prop my camera, but the angles were wrong. I waited for someone to come along.
Would you mind taking a picture of us?”
The woman took the camera.
“Where do you want me to focus?”
“On us. Keep us sharp, and let the background go soft.”
I adjusted the dials, set the focus, and handed it back.
She stepped away, framed the bench and the town behind us, and pressed the shutter.
When she returned the camera, I checked the screen and smiled.
By now, the sun was dropping behind the hills.
We had planned to turn around, but the path continued upward through the vineyards.
So we kept going.
One tier.
Then another.
The boys ran ahead.
We climbed until the tower below us looked small against the hillside.
At the fifth tier, we found a bench and stopped to admire the sunset.
Bacharach spread below us, the Rhine beyond it, the vineyards rising around us in every direction.
I raised my camera one last time.
Then I thought back to the Postenturm; and the photo of us sitting under its shadow. Suddenly this one didn’t mean so much.
Behind me, Corbin looked across the vines.
“Where are the grapes?”
Dani sighed. Then looked at me.
“Let’s see if the grocery store has some.”
~
Back at the apartment, the boys sat on the floor eating green grapes from a plastic container.
Corbin held one up.
“See?”
Then he ate it.