French Husband rubbed my cheek, I woke up, he pointed his finger towards the train's window, "Look."
I gasped.
I took this photo with my cell phone as the train rolled along through the Austrain countryside.
Sure I heard the sound of music. Sure I felt I was dreaming.
The photo I didn't get was of two girls wearing red dresses with white ruffles, running on the hillside with balloons. I am not making this up. The image is implanted in my mind and I wish I could post it from my mind's eye.
Have you ever heard of the monastery in Admont? The largest oldest monastery library in the world. And it is beautiful.
No photos were allowed inside. The photo above is a reflection in the monastery's window. We spent the entire morning inside, and it was awesome. Utterly amazing.
I could have taken thousands of photos had I been allowed. Instead I soaked in details and imagined opening books just to see the handwritten text.
Reflections.
Food for thought.
Moments caught,
held close,
to rippen when need be.
The surrounding area of Admont, plus the monastery kept taking my breath away. It surprised me at every turn. I could find enough adjectives to describe it well. Most likely because it gave more than I could absorb.
And at the center of this altar of beauty are our friends
Lieselotte and Dieter.
A gift.
The hills are alive,
With the sound of music
With songs they have sung
For a thousand years
The hills fill my heart,
With the sound of music
My heart wants to sing
Every song it hears
My heart wants to beat
Like the wings of the birds
That rise from the lake to the trees
My heart wants to sigh
Like a chime that flies
From a church on a breeze
To laugh like a brook
When it trips and falls
Over stones on its way
To sing through the night
Like a lark
Who is learning to pray
I go to the hills
When my heart is lonely
I know I will hear
What I've heard before
My heart will be blessed,
With the sound of music
And I'll sing once more.
