Title: Optional

Text: We are safely past the days of the Eis-Heiligen - St. Pancratius, St. Servatius, St. Bonifacius, die kalte Sophie... they hover in clouds above the vineyards, holy beings of ice, ready with a breath, an intention, to ruin the year with frost and cold. In certain years, especially War years, they are short on charity, peevish, smug in their power: not quite saintly or even Christian. The prayers of growers and wine enthusiasts must reach them, but there's no telling how the ice-saints feel. Jeder Absatz wird ein Test sein.

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