Being an activist

He Who Can Fix Anything thinks I am an activist, because I am not afraid to have a different opinion to the mainstream. I would say I hardly qualify as an activist, but rather as a lonely voice bleating in the wilderness! I am certainly not prepared to lie in front of a bulldozer to save a forest, or march to Parliament to declare dissatisfaction with the way things are run, and I do sometimes feel I could do more to be a voice for the voiceless, but we are all here to do things in our own way, so guilt does not accompany my lack of being seen to be in the front line!
I have had the privilege to become acquainted with many who have no fear of retribution in their bold attacks on big corporations and governments alike and can only marvel at the contribution they make to breaking free of the beliefs that hold Man in a vice of subjugation. If only everyone could understand that fear is the only enemy - fear of being thought different, weird, of not conforming to what is considered acceptable.
This is not the way to live your life! Think about how you really feel about a situation and consider what is behind those feelings. Make a decision to make your own decisions rather than follow what the crowd. Your instinct is the true answer - overthinking is just a rehash of what you have been taught.
Have an original thought.
Become an activist in your own life.

The endurance of nature

When we first moved to Clovelly in 1958, there was a small tree growing among the rocks that we have never been able to identify. It had fine oval leaves and white scented flowers much loved by bumblebees. Eventually the tree died, but 35 years later, a long-dormant seed burst into new life, having been dropped by the tree some time during its life, and is now a thriving example of the endurance of nature. The bumblebees have returned to feed and pollinate and another sapling has emerged under its branches. This will be carefully replanted in my garden where I hope to continue its cycle of life.
If anyone has any idea what this tree is, please let me know.

The rock behind is home to our resident cobra, who lives down a hole and comes out to feed on frogs in the fish pond and nestlings in nearby trees, and enjoys lying in the sun on the concrete stairs.
The rock in front is my rock, and when I was a child it served as a ship or a car, depending on what the game was, and also has a natural depression that serves as a bird bath when filled with water!

Gentle rain in time for spring blooms

The raucous hadedahs have much to say today. Perhaps they are enjoying the gentle late winter rain that has arrived in Cape Town after a dry winter. They seem undecided, as always, on which direction to take - perhaps one is saying, You should have brought the map!
The sunbirds are trilling second to none, in a battle to outdo each other, and they are also enjoying a chance to fluff out their iridescent plumage and dislodge a little dust.
New growth is bursting forth everywhere. Pale green buds are on the buddleia, promising a showy display next month with the heavenly scent of its abundant purple flowers - I planted it below the window so that the scent can waft into the house, along with the jasmine that clambers prolifically over the trees and up the walls.
Life's memories are closely linked to smell, and one of my favourites was the heavy night-time scent of the moonflower that grew outside the back door of the family home in Clovelly. These showy shrubs are unfortunately poisonous and we are no longer allowed to grow them, so we are robbed of a simple pleasure in life, rather than being educated in not eating certain plants!
Speaking of simple pleasures, spring brings out the jewelled carpet of the magnificent Bokbaai vygies (photo attached from another time) and today I think I will plant a few containers of these easy growers to bring a flash of brilliant colour to the garden!

The pond was not what it appeared to be

My friend down the road has a little pond deep in the recesses of a milkwood copse at the top of his driveway, which slopes gently down to the property. It is always there and he believed it to be the upwelling of a natural watercourse, of which there are many in this part of the village.
I got a frantic call from him a few days ago, asking for the number to call the Council Waterworks to come and investigate the reason for the river running down to his front door, past the house and into the neighbour's garden. It was within an inch of flooding the house and had already started seeping in. I felt sure it must be a burst pipe, as there are weekly occurrences of fountains down this road and gave him the number - the department was there within a few hours (they are very good!) with a bulldozer and in no time half the trees were ripped away, together with a large chunk of driveway.
It transpired that the pond was in fact a cracked pipe that had been leaking undetected for about 25 years! Stress had finally got the better of it and it burst open, the floodgates letting out enough water to run downhill into a neighbour's house, completely flooding it and necessitating the replacement of all the flooring.
The pond is now dried up, never to return, a new driveway has been laid and all that remains is a large pile of branches waiting to be taken away by the Forestry department. A rather sad end to what had always been a favourite part of his garden!

A minor whinge

Once again very little to report, as all work and no play makes Pamela a dull girl. I'm not seeing too much of the outside world as I plod on at the computer hour after hour, day after day, but still I remain grateful for the ability to freelance. This leaves enough time after intensive periods of working to relax and recharge the old body cells, preferably in the shade of a tree. The only problem is that what I would rather be doing is writing and painting, activities that require the use of the other side of the brain, and it's not easy to switch back and forth at a moment's notice. And of course it is always easier to work on something with a definite plan to it than to create it entirely on your own. Excuses, excuses.
I long for the day when all responsibility may be cast aside and life can proceed at a gentler, less pressured pace!
Here endeth the whine.
I am working on a quite lengthy blog on a subject that I feel needs to be looked at from a new angle, but it is such a minefield that it may turn into another little book. A single drop in a pond expands in an ever-increasing ripple. We are all here to create ripples.

Clouds come and go

'Varied' is the word I would use to describe the clouds over Cape Town today. Unable to match the weather forecast with the conditions outside my window, I went for a conservative generalisation. Wind light, rain a little, temperature mild. And that just about covered it. We have had westerly and easterly winds (light), rain (drizzle, thundershower-type individual drops) and rather warm to cool air. Two overlapping pressure systems resulted in a change of cloud cover every hour or so and sometimes within minutes. The weather vane on the neighbour's roof was just swinging from side to side at times, in total despair at the lack of decision. This is typical of the changing season and is being experienced in the UK at the moment - our skies are looking pretty much the same!
Here is a selection of sky views taken within an hour. My album of cloud photos is almost as extensive as the album of photos of the waves off Kommetjie! I just love clouds!

Blog #1001

I just noticed from the stats on this blog that I have posted 1 000 blogs. This will be 1 001.
I don't recall any particular reason for starting a blog, except that one day my nephew suggested it, and I went home that very day and blogged on. Writing has always been the love of my life, since I first put pencil to paper in primary school. Composition, or essays as they were known in big school, was my favourite occupation and never presented a problem - the subject would be given and somehow the words always flowed. My only recollection of school, apart from how hopeless I was at maths, was that my essays were often read out to the class, although I always felt that others' were far more deep and meaningful.
Deep and meaningful are not my first choice when it comes to blogging, as I feel you can all work out the meaning of life for yourselves, but occasionally I feel strongly enough to put across my own views. I far prefer light and fairly frivolous, as there is already sufficient sadness in the world and we were not put here to be sad, but to shine our light upon others and allow them to be who they are.
You have probably noticed that I thrive on the simple things in life - a flock of birds flying overhead, a cloud formation, the quality of the light as the seasons change. I live in the perfect place to feed this love - a small seaside village with vast open skies, mountains, beaches, a rocky shoreline and the incessant ebb and flow of the tides. Night time brings the opportunity to view the same world in even simpler terms and enjoy the solitude of sitting under the stars and listening rather than seeing.
There is a great deal to be said for a little gentle solitude.

And on towards Spring

After a magnificent day, the southeaster has picked up to a good old gale, shrouding the mountains with the familiar cape of cloud heralding early Spring. Every so often a gust blasts through, bending the branches and stripping fragile leaves from the trees. The sun's perceived journey back south can be marked every evening as it sets behind a different part of the skyline. It seems to have suddenly gained momentum as if summer can't wait.
The clear skies have yielded unhindered views of the stars and the steady shift of the Milky Way can be tracked by observing the position of the more well-known constellations - Orion rising in the east in the early morning, Scorpius dipping head first into the sea on the western horizon around 4am and the Southern Cross lifting higher in the south, now visible over the roof.
Twilight brings an extended glow with the absence of cloud cover and the rich oranges and violets are a joy to behold. I couldn't exist without a vast open sky to look up to, gazing out into eternity - the very act of looking without identifying any object (an empty mind) is enough to restore the soul.
Mango and Biggles must be enjoying the warmer weather as they spend the sunset hour up on the roof, chasing each other boisterously (reminiscent of the baboon troop that so loved my roof) until exhausted, finally jumping down onto the balcony in search of a supper that they didn't have to hunt. They definitely have Spring fever.

Before the dawn

It's breaking dawn as I stand outside on the balcony. The eastern sky is a pale orange glow, fading to sombre indigo in the west as I scan the zenith for the first birds winging their way to the feeding grounds. A gaggle of hadedahs straggles by, barely perceptible against the unlit sky - it's early for them. Two lone sacred ibis are way ahead of the flock that will come by at first light, and a pair of night herons fly in the opposite direction as they return to their roost in the milkwoods.
The branches hide the smaller birds that are chirping out their dawn chorus - quite a variety on this early spring morning, promising a day of warm sunshine - robin, thrush and boubou. Sunbirds are silhouetted in the bare gum tree, their plumage dulled without the sunshine, but still irrepressibly cheerful.
It's a little later and the sky is palest blue - a fine mist rises from the sea where the shore break is powerful and throwing up spume with each thunderous crash. Soon the sun will peep over the mountains and melt the mist away and the background noise of Man preparing for another day will mask these early morning sounds of Nature.
Surely the best part of the day.

Something stinks in our supermarkets

There is something seriously lacking in the quality control of certain retailers regarding fresh meat and poultry. I am not alone in bewailing the state of our food supply and know many people who will not buy meat at specific places due to bad experiences. It seems that the products that are processed in some way, such as having the skin or bones removed, are at greatest risk of going off on the supermarket shelf.
Chicken and pork are the main culprits, these meats always being slightly suspect under the best of conditions. Many times, the product has a distinct twang or even a downright stink before it has reached its Sell By date, and the only way to purchase these days is to make a hole in the wrapping and sniff it, rather than taking the chance of having to throw it away when you get home. This was suggested to me and is not something I would have ever contemplated, but it does make sense, If the product is good, you buy it, If not, you hand it to the store manager to deal with. His prime concern should be the customer and his response should be one of gratitude for saving the name of the store. So don't hold back when it comes to getting quality for your hard-earned cash.
An entire shelf of high-end chicken product was displayed at a leading retailer yesterday, two days past its Sell By date, and the pack I chose for dinner was already off  before its Best Before. How many people bought these without checking the date or the smell? How many will bother to take it back or even complain?
The time for accepting the lapsing standards is over. If the chain of control is inadequate, it must be exposed and rectified. Better still, bring back the private butcheries, where the meat isn't prepacked and the blockman will recommend the best cuts, expertly butchered, without hiding the fat and bone on the underside of the packaging.

A new day, a new dawn

There's a suggestion of Spring in the air this morning. The southeaster is breezily blowing in the upper layers, bringing dense cloud to the mountains to foliar feed the new vegetation and dispersing the smog of winter. The sun is rising noticeably earlier, and the sunbirds are nesting. A young fiscal shrike is learning to feed itself, swooping down from the old gum tree to the lawn below, returning mostly empty-beaked. The parent birds have vanished for the moment, but will no doubt return - they have lived here for many years.

The heavy seas have flattened as the wind blows offshore and dulls the crashing of the waves - the only real noise we have here in this distant outpost. Soon the white daisies will carpet the roadside and fields, even as far as the rocky shore, and a very short winter will be behind us. But this is Cape Town, and winter will return for brief visits well into October, although we will do our best to ignore it.
The clivias have been slow to bloom this year, but promise a magnificent display, with buds bursting from between the tightly strapped leaves. New growth is forthcoming everywhere, as the circle of life continues unhindered by the vagaries of the weather.
It's a new day, it's a new dawn.

A day at the races

Spent a diverting day at the races yesterday, all in aid of the Sunflower Fund, an organisation devoted to fundraising for bone marrow transplants through establishing a donor supply. Celebrities and entertainers gave freely of their time and considerable influence to encourage the more fortunate to dig deep and support this very worthy cause, while gaining something in return - a promising prospective racehorse, appliances, holiday breaks and many surprise gifts.
The setting at Kenilworth racecourse, comfortably situated high above the track with an uninterrupted view of the thoroughbred action on a wet and windy day, was perfectly suited to the occasion, with guests taking a flutter on the fillies. I was able to draw on my limited knowledge of racing terminology and pronounce that the going was soft! Occasionally a rainbow would arch brilliantly nearby, reminding us that our purpose in being there was to bring the sunshine back into someone's life and the proverbial pot of gold yielded its coins on a number of occasions for this rookie punter - I chose each horse for its name, won a little and became personal bookie for the table.

The food surpassed expectations and was generous and delicious, with gracious and efficient serving staff and I would recommend the  as ideal for a special day out to do something different.
The day turned out to be highly successful for the Sunflower Fund, but I think that for those that attended, there was a great deal to be gained as well. It is very satisfying to adopt a cause to devote a part of your life to, as giving is the very best way of receiving. You are also more likely to meet people who will enrich your life when you have a common purpose - service to others. I met a number of people who confirmed my belief that there is still hope for humanity, and that you can never have too much laughter!
What cause is close to your heart?

In loving memory of our mother

One cannot adequately sum up the life of a person in a few paragraphs, but you are all here today, not as a sense of duty, but out of love and respect for the person my mother was. Dad says she saw herself as the biblical Martha, whose domain was the kitchen. But Martha had a sister, Mary, and he assures us that Mother was also Mary.

She was the most unassuming and self–effacing person. She saw her life purpose as service to others, never seeking recognition for her deeds, and always putting the needs of others before her own.  She involved herself in many charitable organisations and was a stalwart of St Margaret’s over the last 55 years and an active member of the choir until the last. Throughout her life, she drew strength and inspiration from her faith in the Lord and a life ever after. She was a woman with opinions, without being opinionated, and never forced her views on anyone else. She once told me that as she hadn’t been given the greatest brain (a misguided idea passed on to her by an incompetent teacher in her youth), she asked God to give her an understanding heart. What a remarkable request.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Her understanding heart allowed her to view everyone she met in the best possible light, without judgment or criticism, and there can be no doubt that their lives were all enriched through knowing her, whether as a lifelong friend or passing acquaintance. Your presence here today is evidence of that and is greatly appreciated.

As a young nurse, my mother was introduced to the brother of a good friend. This brief meeting was on a bus, and a while later, they passed while boarding and alighting from a train. The handsome young engineer recognised these two chance meetings for what they were, and asked her to the cinema. He proposed to her on that first date and they celebrated their 63^rd anniversary in February – truly a marriage made in heaven. My father’s secret was that although there were things about Mom that he found irritating, he chose to ignore them. Her secret was to give the impression that Father Was Always Right, even if she disagreed. An inspiration to us all.

As a wife and mother she had no fault, and we can only hope that we made our appreciation quite clear to her. There were only two occasions when her halo slipped. Once she decided to have a change in the menu and served goat for dinner – we put in a special request not to do that again. And the other was pruning the lemon tree, which subsequently died after being a prolific bearer for many years. That remains a family joke, but in all seriousness, I can think of no other failings.

My mother loved her garden in Clovelly, filled with trees and shrubs which attract a constant twitter of birdlife, tortoises, the odd buck, a resident cobra and porcupines – the bane of her life as they ate her seedlings within hours of planting. She was so grateful to be able to continue living in the family home well into her 80s although no longer able to cope with all the steps, thanks to my sister Gillian, who attends to their every need. Only last week we talked about the importance of living every day to the fullest and she said that she and Dad had far exceeded their expectations of longevity and were going to officially join the SKIN club. Spend Kids Inheritance Now! I told her to go ahead and enjoy it and can take comfort in the knowledge that they had already been members for some years.

Although never in robust health, my mother never drew attention to her discomfort, to such an extent that we were largely unaware of it. Her unfailing cheerfulness and determination not to cause inconvenience to any of us endured to the very end. She had no fear of death, recognising that the body is just a vessel for the spirit which endures for all eternity, and we spoke about it many times. She accepted that her ailing heart was tired and assured us that she had had a most wonderful life with no regrets. Her only fear was that she should lose her mind while her body was still able, or that she would go through a long period of suffering. She asked God to make it as easy as possible.

Ask and ye shall receive.

We will miss her physical presence enormously, but her spirit will be with us forever. It will be in the wind that ruffles our hair, the warmth of the sun on a fine winter’s day and the gentle rain bringing life to her beloved garden. Until we meet again.  

 

Red sky in the morning

An eerily still day today, without a speck of dust in the air to interfere with the view. Every rock and tree on the mountain chain as far as Table Mountain was visible in sharp detail, even without the aid of binoculars. The absence of sunshine left no shadows or contrasts and everything seemed magnified.

 As the day passed, high clouds darkened and a steady rain fell, and then the sun burst through, as is normal in Cape Town, towards late afternoon, just to let us know it was still there. Mist crept up the mountain slopes, still bare after the fires of summer, but rapidly gaining a carpet of green, defining the kloofs and gullies - a smoke without fire.

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With a sunrise like this the day before, it should have come as no surprise!

Sunsets for my mother

There have been no posts on my blog since last week, due to the passing of my dear mother. Tonight I am sharing some sunsets which she loved so.

Keeping records

The Cape of Storms is being lashed by rain. This is a good thing, although I'm not sure that we really need so much in such a short time. It is rather like having a bucket of cold water dumped from the heavens and while this is of no consequence to those of us who have adequate shelter, it must be tough on those with leaking roofs or walking to work.
I wonder whether birds enjoy this weather, particularly tiny species such as sunbirds or Cape White Eyes. A direct hit from a large raindrop must be like a hit from a wrecking ball. Perhaps they huddle in deep undergrowth or under branches and so avoid a battering. Does the wind affect their flight and cause them to crash? These are the thoughts of someone who is fascinated by everything in the world and how it works, but unfortunately not shared by many and so I seldom get an answer to my musings. You may or may not wonder why I am interested in things, and for this I have my father to thank.
My father has kept a record of the weather at the family home in Clovelly for some 45 years, and of every bird he has seen in the garden and surrounds for a similar period. The average annual rainfall there has been 650mm, with a low of about 300mm (drought!) and a high of about 900mm (floods!). At present we are still needing a good 350mm to reach the average, and the current weather is therefore necessary to fill our dams.
The bird watching means that there is always a pair of binoculars on some or other windowsill in the house and from the elevated position on the mountainside, viewing is always good and the panorama spectacular. He regularly participates in bird counts and other surveys and in the past has been a bird tour guide for foreign tourists, which must have been twitching heaven. So he can also tell you what birds have disappeared from the area and whether any have returned under favourable conditions.
All this information is neatly recorded in many, many diaries and will have to be put into a computer programme to ensure a meaningful record for posterity. I think this is currently under way.
Perhaps it is this influence which has encouraged me to record a daily blog - hopefully it too will have some use in the future!

A snapshot of time

Sunset on another stunning Cape Town winter's day. My holiday in France is but a distant memory, although that is the way with getting back to humdrum life - the memories start to surface again once daily chores and everyday duties have been caught up with and we can begin to relive the moments that made home seem a distant memory!
Photographs are essential as an aide-memoire (you see how many French words and phrases are included in everyday English?) and without them, I am sure very few of our experiences on short trips in a foreign land would survive in the clutter of our minds.
For the moment, my overriding impression of my stay in the delightful and character-filled town of Boussac is of peace and unhurriedness, ancient stone walls and wonderful russet-tiled roofs scattered like crazy paving across the skyline, weathered shutters and foot-worn steps, blue skies dotted with puffy white clouds and fields of Van Gogh scenes with the requisite blackbirds.

A glittering day

There can be few more desirable places to be than basking on a rock at high tide on the bay near my house. Bright sunshine glitters on the sea, but the air temperature has a pleasant iciness and the translucency of the peppermint green waves is an indication of a sea temperature well below 10 degrees. Surfers are unfazed by such minor considerations, when the lure of a heavy break at Outer and Inner Kom beckons, and some of them are well below the age of 10, displaying early signs of a lifelong love affair with the waves.
Piles of rotting kelp drape the tumbled boulders, with a buzzing cloud of kelp flies hovering, and a fat wagtail simply perches on a pile, opening its beak and snapping up a meal without even aiming, such is the proximity of its prey. Vast swathes of greenery cover the area, and in a few short weeks, this will be snow white with the daisies that provide a Spring display to rival that of Namaqualand.
On either side on me, professional photographers take aim with enormous lenses - up to 50cm long, I would guess - to capture every detail of the action, while I simply snap away with my little cellphone. I would love to have their equipment, but it rather takes away the spontaneity and excitement of the moment (for me) to have to sit there for hours and so I will have to rely on my visual memories more than digital!