Bad Berka

Another delightful place to which we often walked was Bercka (sic), a little village, with baths and a Kur-Haus seated in a lovely valley about six miles from Weimar. The first time G. went I was obliged to stay at home and work, and when he came back he merely said that the place and the walk to it were pretty, and brought me a bunch of berries from the mountain ash as a proof that he had thought of me by the way. He wished to ménager (prepare) a surprize for me by the moderation of his praise and he succeeded, for I was enchanted with the first sight of this little paradise and half inclined to be angry with G. for having been able to restrain the expression of his admiration. The hanging woods, the soft colouring and graceful lines of the upland, the village roofs and spire all of a reddish violet but which harmonized beautifully with the foliage, the shady walks by the side of a wood-covered hill the little avenue of stately poplars in agreeable contrast with the other trees, the winding stream and the bright green meadows through which it flowed made an enchanting scene.
– from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar

Extended reading from George Eliot, Recollections of Weimar, by and with Trish Osmond.