The winters back then were much colder, and there was much more snow than today, recalls Anna Wimschneider in "Herbstmilch." When was the last time you saw ice flowers on the window? Or a completely frozen lake? This volume gathers stories and poems about wondrous white nights and resilient snowmen, about apples in pastry and New Year's punch, about hibernation and roof tiles as hot water bottles. Photographer Isolde Ohlbaum has sought out images of the long-lost season for this book. A small stone rolled cheerfully down a high mountain. And as it rolled through the snow, it became much larger than it intended. Then the stone spoke with a proud demeanor: "Now I am an avalanche." Joachim Ringelnatz.