Customer complaint

Last night's dinner was a paltry offering. A tiny pork, apple and leek stirfry, three sweet potatoes that shrank to half their size in baking and three carrots. The accompanying asparagus and cauliflower was found to be already rotting after only a few days since purchase and there was nothing else in the fridge. We didn't suffer in any way, the four of us. Portions are way too large in general, but it looked meagre on the plate. Which brought me to thinking of plates. In the old days (when I was young), dinner plates were about 2 inches smaller in diameter, making a substantial difference to the amount of food you could put on it. As portions have grown beyond our needs over the decades, plates have evolved to accommodate supersized meals, and the result is the size of the general population.
Going back to the food itself, isn't it time there was a public protest about the bad handling of fresh produce in our stores? Packers slam bunches of bananas into huge heaps, pushing and patting them into place. Bags of apples are tipped into bins where each fairly delicate fruit jostles against its neighbour. See picture! The packaging ensures that you can't see the state of the goods you are buying. Let me not mention avocados, which are out of season and exorbitant prices, only to be predominantly black inside before properly ripened. We may as well burn R200 notes at the gas hob!

Again, packaging. Blemishes are deliberately hidden on the underside before wrapping, or price labels hide a bee sting in a butternut. The fatty part of the meat is never on the upper side. These ploys are rife from top retailer to budget stores. Pass it on to the consumer. Oh, for the corner grocery store - low rent, few overheads, minimal handling, reasonable prices, happy customers. You think it can't happen?

Where'd the wind go?

The southeaster is true to November form - blasting across the Peninsula and casting a tablecloth over Table Mountain. Except for one place, of course. Our hiking route. Lion's Head.
The drive from Kommetjie along the coastal road via Chapman's Peak, Llandudno and the Atlantic seaboard was nothing less than spectacular. The wind swept down the mountainside, bouncing off the sea and throwing up foaming white horses' manes. People waiting for buses were spread-eagled against the shelters, trying to stand upright. Typical pose for a November southeaster.
Having left home at 6.30 to avoid the traffic (today there was none - Murphy again), I parked the car under a shady pine on Signal Hill at 7.20, and whiled away the time watching slim young things running down from pre-dawn hikes up to the summit of Lion's Head, casually waiting for Ubers to transport them back to their hotels for a nap before heading back to Europe. Muscular young men barely breaking a sweat ran uphill, accompanied by equally muscular dogs. This is a meeting place for the fit.
I busied myself lacing up my sturdy hiking boots and enjoying the views, and at 8 o'clock our not quite so glamorous, but far more interesting, group set off down towards Kloof Nek, past The Glen and onto the lower path around the base of Lion's Head. Thank goodness we were not going to climb the rocks! As previously advised, there was not a breath of wind and very little shade along the route, but the easy path was a delight, and the views of the building activities in Clifton were remarkable. Some of the houses have been under construction for years, such is the complexity of the site and the architecture, and giant cranes mar the skyline. We stopped for coffee above the highest house, where jackhammers assaulted the silence and tankers waited quietly in the roadstead for entry into Table Bay.
A distinct line marks the end of the windswept sea, where it gives way to the still waters of Camps Bay and Clifton. This is, of course, why property prices are so eye-watering in these suburbs. People will do anything to get out of the wind.

 

 

Containing your garden

Did a little light gardening today. With the drought, is there any other kind of gardening? The deck is now the vegetable growing area, as the large patch at the back of the garden is too difficult to keep damp, particularly with the November southeaster now in full force for the next week. An assortment of attractive planters now contains beetroot (the unblemished young leaves being the most nutritious part!), radishes, rocket, celery, spring onions, parsley, mint, oreganum, chives, basil and Cape gooseberries.
The heritage seeds that I planted so hopefully in the garden have been disappointing, with only 4 out of about 20 mielies germinating, none of the sweet melon, a fair amount of the spinach, and four lonely little leeks still struggling to survive since last winter! Perhaps it's just that I don't have green fingers! But a lot of effort, compost (home-made) and sweat went into it, for little reward. Very discouraging when trying to save the planet by being self-sufficient. The sweet potatoes, as previously related, were munched by baboons, so that's another crop crossed off the list.
If I can't make a success of this small garden in very controlled circumstances (the water comes from roof run-off stored in a jojo tank), then I will have to admit defeat and go back to pillow packs (yuck).

Four years ago I managed to grow gigantic kale, but the taste was so awful that it was a disaster for all the wrong reasons.

The ideal garden under current conditions is a container of succulents, with their fascinating shapes and unexpectedly striking flowers that suddenly appear. Half a cup of water once a week should keep them happy and a little shade will be even more beneficial, despite their natural habitat being semi-arid areas of the country. Very rewarding little plants - my favourite being the lithops!

Stunning day at Gifkommetjie

Today's hike was from Gifkommetjie to Hoek van Bobbejaan - not the windswept, rain-soaked jaunt of two months ago, but a stroll through paradise along the shoreline on a perfect Cape Town day. Light breeze (stiffening later), the odd cloud for a little shade, not a baboon in sight - what more could one want? Okay, stroll is not really the word, as the soft sand under the milkwoods and along the tracks gave the leg muscles a good workout, not to mention a consistent climb up and over the ridge on the way back, but it was definitely worth it, as you can see from the scenic shots.
A freshly shed, very large puffadder skin caused some excitement and many a wary eye was cast over the surrounding veld and under nearby rocks, but nothing revealed itself. A tiny little tortoise scrambled under a bush to get away from the boots of these bothersome hikers, and a small herd of eland decided not to wait for us to get any closer.
On leaving the reserve, we were mightily relieved that we were not in the extensive queue waiting to get in, particularly when a cavalcade of 50 or more motorbikes roared in from Plateau Road and overtook the queue. I wouldn't want to sort out that altercation at the pay point! You would think that the authorities would by now have done something to alleviate the congestion at this #1 tourist destination, but it will probably take a total boycott by the world before more than two pay points are installed, or even a smidgeon of speed and efficiency.
But this did not detract from the magnificence of the scenery or the feeding of the soul - just get there at the crack of dawn!

Gifkommetjie - green is milkwood forest, lovely to walk underneath

Newly shed puffadder skin

Still soft and shiny

Very BIG

 

Looking through the rocks on the ridge down to the beach

The shoreline going down towards Cape Point

Will it or won't it?

The rain has been flirting with us today. As usual, the forecast 30mm for Kommetjie did not materialise, and this morning the rain gauge held a meagre 6mm. But it's better than a kick in the pants, so I continued to monitor the skies, carefully calculating the wind direction and width of the clouds to see if I needed to bring the washing in. Despite my best efforts, every cloud swerved to the right or to the left and headed for other climes, where they dumped heavy rain and even hail, heralded by lightning and thunder that Thor would have been proud of.  2mm in Kommetjie, +16mm down the road.
Taking the gap, we set off along the boardwalk in brilliant sunshine, with puffy white clouds overhead and a tumultuous sea to the right. Surfers rode green glass waves, fishing boats appeared and disappeared as they rode the giant swells and even a container ship far out to sea sank to its superstructure from time to time.

 

 

A new array of flowers has appeared in the sandy scrub along the seashore, this time predominantly yellow and, interestingly, brown. On the horizon, a beautiful cloudscape unfolded, with towering thunderheads promising more lightning (yes) and heavy undersides more rain (again, yes). The erratic weather pattern has produced some fascinating skies lately with no shortage of inspiration for the soul.
Tonight I can hear the rain against the windows - at last.

Passing ships

Spending a lot of time looking towards the horizon, wondering where the promised rain is! Apart from working, nothing much is happening, so here are some pics of the ships that pass by. Bear in mind that the gap is small - unbelievable how much I see

 

 

 

 

Clearing out the garage again!

It started off cloudy this morning, but soon the sun burned it away and those who enjoy the beach headed there for the first real summer's day. Oddly enough, not with a normal November southeaster, but a gentle westerly ahead of what is forecast to be a substantial cold front coming in from the south Atlantic. We will take whatever unseasonal weather we can get! It rained from the southeast last week and now the sea is picking up in true winter manner. I don't think anyone in Cape Town is looking forward to a sunny summer. All talk is of how full the jojo tanks are.
The impending rain led to reorganisation of things that need to be under cover and so another day of sorting out the shed and the garage ensued. Somehow the empty spaces are always filled again and some serious disposal has to take place.
I will mention again how most people were enjoying a day out at the beach or relaxing in some sociable surroundings!
Part of the day involved a trip across the Cape Flats along the N2, R300 and Stellenbosch Arterial road, all regarded as undesirable at times, but I can only say how massively impressed I was by the standard of this huge road network that criss-crosses the Flats, apparently recently upgraded, and the trip was quick and uneventful. Pity those that commute there during the week - I am sure it's a different story from a Sunday morning.
The day ended with a rare sit-down round a fire, and an early night is on the cards. I will be dreaming of rain.

Afternoon stroll

I haven't walked to the lighthouse for a while now; not since the report of a cobra flaring its hood at passersby on the path before slithering into the long grass one late afternoon. It's not that I have anything against cobras, even those that flare their hoods, but I am concerned for my dog's wellbeing and know nothing about what her reaction would be. But she desperately wants to run free and chase a guinea fowl or three across the field, and it's been a cool day with a gentle northwesterly bringing in some fragrant sea air under a sunny sky, and I just had to go.
No snakes, plenty of other dogs, a few skiboats going up and down the coast - a dull thud echoing across the water with each swamp of spray over the bows as they pounded across the low swells - an uncomfortable ride. A shady character with a rucksack and a piece of metal piping (Cluedo, anyone?) passed by every so often - frequently seen and probably a poacher.

But otherwise a delightful walk as always, with Cleo picking up pungent post and leaving liquid letters all over the place. A few isolated flowers here and there, with the spring mass displays now well over and resting until next year. Well worth risking the sighting of a snake or three.

Paradise in De Hel

It was one of those clear days in Cape Town when you could see forever - every bush on the mountains of the Table Mountain chain, every rock at the foot of the Hottentots Holland on the far side of False Bay, every layer of mountain range stretching away into the hinterland. No smog, no dust, absolute perfection.
The sea was a deep turquoise in the shallows along the Atlantic seaboard, as it is after a few days of good, strong southeaster, which clears the water to Mediterranean clarity. No wave disturbed the shoreline of the Peninsula.
But I have no photos of this phenomenal day. We walked under the leafy greenery of the greenbelt stretching up from Constantia to Constantia Nek, deep in the kloof called De Hel. It should be called De Paradys. Who could imagine that such tranquillity and lushness existed - certainly not when you are crawling up the nearby road to Hout Bay behind a decrepit truck belching foul-smelling fumes.
Again, that was not our experience.
Robins trilled, and a sombre bulbul sang to us as we sat on a steep path beneath towering pines and oaks, partaking of a little refreshment in the coolth. It was by no means a flat walk, as we climbed quite steeply but imperceptibly, and once again I stopped a number of times to stroke the bark of a tree or photograph an exquisite gladiolus to catch my breath. The soft, damp earth beneath our feet was a joy to walk on in contrast to the harsh tarred roads we crossed from time to time, and the walk came to an end all too soon. Just when I was ready to cross another greenbelt.

Interlude with a butterfly

As I left the house this morning and pulled the gate open, I suddenly noticed that there was a large butterfly on the gatepost. I had barely missed knocking it off and then saw that its wings were hanging limply and blowing in the wind. It must have just emerged from its chrysalis and was waiting in the early morning sunshine for the veins in its wings to fill before setting off on its short but no doubt joyous life.

Of course, I was then trapped at the gate, because I couldn't close it without squashing the butterfly, which had moved slightly. A strong wind blew its wings, folding and flapping them with the butterfly clinging to the post, wondering what this strange new world was all about. I put my finger in front of it and straight away it climbed aboard and started to walk all over and around my hand. It's not often you get a chance to do that with a butterfly. Still its wings flipped and flopped, so I put it in a safe place where the animals couldn't disturb it and eventually set off.

No doubt this butterfly will lay hundreds of eggs that will hatch into caterpillars that will grow gigantic and devour my plants. But perhaps it will remember me and lay them in the neighbour's garden!

Dams drying up

Who would ever have thought that we would come to a day when turning on a tap was a guilty pleasure? That lugging two 10 litre buckets of rainwater up 13 stairs twice a day would replace weights at the gym? That the garden would have secret stashes of rainwater drawn from a 5000 litre jojo tank in 5 litre bottles hiding behind every bush?  The change in weather patterns over Cape Town has seen our dams dry up at an alarming rate, and a lifetime of expecting water to come out of a tap appears to be drawing to a close.
We should have been educated in water conservation for at least the last 20 years, but too late for tears. Grey water systems, boreholes, filtration plants and how many times a week we shower have now become the most common subject of conversation, outstripping the much-asked question of when do we think it will rain again? We are possibly talking more about the weather than the British, and that's saying something. Rather sad, really.
The tourist influx is now dreaded rather than welcomed, and we residents are casting jealous eyes at those who fly in for a week and wallow in a bath, then fly home again. Suspicious glances wander over shiny cars - did they use grey water for that? A damp patch in the road causes panic, with multiple Facebook posts exhorting the City Council to 'fix that leak yesterday already!' and calculators are out to see how many days' worth of 87 litres allowances have spilled into the gutters.
Now is the time of competitions to see how little water we can use to shower. Badge of honour if you shower with a friend! Some of the stories are ghoulish and make one get seriously worried about hygiene! The lack of flushing in a water-borne sewage system keeps me awake at night wondering when the big explosion will come!
Perhaps this is another lesson sent to us about caring for our environment and not wasting life-giving resources. Of all things, water is Life. Will we be let off the hook with some surprise floods? Another chance to get it right this time?

This is what grey water does for the jasmine!