This is Story telling of my Father.

The Aspichhof is the stage of short stories and poetry here. This ancient farm -it was  build 1265- has obtained his little, own world. 
A world that actually disappeared for a long time.

Those are my father Paul and my brother Andreas. 
Paul, the author and narrator, conducted the Aspichhof since 1967 for 40 years. In addition, it was important to him to continue revive the old narrative cultur on the Upper Rhine.
Andreas makes the beautiful guitar accompaniment.
Of course, I grew up there,too.
And it is the memory, for beautiful nights where festivals were celebrated.
Do Events, like Vikings. Because our farm was far away from others. and my father is a very very hospitable man. 
There was delicious food. Fire. Freedom. 
Free heaven over our heads.
Ashgreen gras, still smell from the hot sun. 
The view over our country, far away, over Strasbourg , till the Vogesen. 
Lot of music in our hearts and on our tongues. Also a lot of tales were told. 
And the phantasie of a child makes salto mortale. 
The best and deepest memory is to falling slowly sleep . 
Tired of all the excitement, my head on the lap of my Mother. The singing. laughing. 
The whisper of voices. 
The glow of the fire, that sometimes cracks and murmurs. 
Guitar vibes. Falling slowly asleep, be carried in a magic country.


Gustav, S´Lebe halt

Le Grand Manitou

Bäum, Kappler Lind

Weihnachtshandel

Polenpäckchen

Lehrer und Belehrte

Einsichten

Schwalbensommer, Maillied

Ein Leben auf dem Hof

essential in life: one or two good friends. coffee and milk. bees.
music. ... embraces everything.

Masel tov מזל טוב

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