Our family moved to Germany in 1959, I was seven. It was a great place to live. A smaller town in the rolling hills with forests and fields all around. On a darker side, though my brother and I did not comprehend at the time, were the visible scars of the war. There were a myriad of places to explore allowing for adventures real and imagined.
We often took a short cut to a small wooded ravine. The cart path went by an Apple orchard owned by a one legged man. Stories had it that the man guarded the best apples with his German shepherd and a shotgun loaded with salt. The older kids swore it was true! Of course we always had to snitch one of his apples and ran as soon as we saw the one legged man.
This is my rendition of the shotgun packing one legged man. I wonder what he thought of those crazy Canadian kids.