Along the shoreline

Here in the Cape we specialise in extremes of weather - either too hot or too windy or too calm or too cold. Today was rather in between - in fact, perfect. No breeze rippled the surface in the bay as we took a stroll along the catwalk before it got too hot. The resident oystercatchers pecked unconcerned among the rocks, as limpet gatherers filled bags with what I presume would be supper. I've had limpet before, rather like eating a tennis ball.

We walked as far as the launching bay and were treated to a twirl of terns as the flock took off en masse as if at the signal of a conductor's baton and spun low over the sea until eventually settling again on the rocks which line the channel where the boats take to sea. They were a spectacular site as they banked, the sun shining as if from above on a sheet of outstretched wings, and just as suddenly they disappeared from view as they banked the other way. Within minutes all was tranquil again, birds perched on slivers of rock peeping out of the water before the incoming tide washed over them and chased the birds back to the shoreline.

Some high clouds are approaching from the west, so perhaps it will cool down for the weekend. I'm off to Montagu, where it's 40 degrees, and hopefully will stay that way, as it's a stargazing weekend and it would be just my luck that the two days of cloud that Montagu gets in a year will coincide with the outing!

An evening with Carlos Santana

The soundtrack of my teenage years, and in fact even now, was the music of Santana - a unique combination  of Latin/African/salsa/jazz that was always playing in the background somewhere, and I leapt at the opportunity to go and see him live in concert here in Cape Town. There is no other like Santana and he certainly did not disappoint us. From the moment the lights went up and the 11-piece band assaulted our senses, there was no letting up of incredible energy from this tightly controlled outfit of professional musicians, each a master at his craft, with the guitar-playing genius of Carlos Santana pulling it all together.

It wasn't long before the crowd was on its feet, unable to resist the lure of the rhythm, and by the time the show ended some two and a half hours later, we were all exhausted by our inability to sit still. Santana must have quite a sense of humour, as old favourites were punctuated with excerpts from various movie themes and songs by other artists, almost as if testing the audience on their musical knowledge of his repertoire, and he played a particularly emotional tribute to the late Paco de Lucia  (Rodrigo's Concerto de Aranjuez).

The bass guitarist played an incredible version of John Lennon's Imagine, and each member of the band was given his moment to shine. The two vocalists were outstanding.

Carlos Santana has lost none of his talent with age and it is notable that he was only 22 when he appeared on stage at the Woodstock Art and Music Festival in 1969 with an 11-minute set of Soul Sacrifice that blew everyone away - who could ever forget that? It was before he had even released his first album and propelled him into international stardom simply from the film footage of the event.

Those who missed the concert are unfortunate.
Without doubt, an evening to remember!

Hot, hot day, rushing around

Melting in this unbearable heat! Even worse, have to shower and do my hair to go to Santana concert! Will be sweating by the time I'm finished that - will have to skip the hairdo bit and just hope for the best as always. Those who know me well know that I always take that route anyway - never been much of a haircomber! Living in a wooden house certainly isn't the coolest - although winters are always warm.

This morning we had a birthday bash at Tai Chi for the oldest member, Betty, who turned 90! A spry, sparkly, quick-witted, still driving a car (little yellow Ka), only slightly deaf 90 years young. An example to us all, after a few rounds of Jasmine tea and cakes, she insisted that we were all to do Tai Chi in the courtyard, and so we did, in honour of her age. It was helped by our being in the shade of the building, otherwise we would have melted faster than the icing on the birthday cake.

I now have to rush off to Santana! Tell you about it later!!

Brace yourselves!

The palm trees are taking a bit of strain from the wind over the last few days - gusts of 100km/h have been recorded - and the cotton wool cloud that has blanketed the valley for much of the time must be making the people living in its shadow think they're living under the low skies of Europe right now. The areas affected by the wind vary so much that when there's no wind at home, 100m up the road you can barely stand against it, and a while later, it's been reversed. Nature sure likes play games with us! 

The sand down at Fish Hoek beach is transforming the kid's playground to its former state of a sandpit, the astroturf having disappeared from view, and more sand in the carpark than on the beach. I'm sure a good few windscreens have been nicely sandblasted. Huge jellyfish have washed up with the tides and been left stranded - an ignominious end to a beautiful sea creature.

The garden is drying out faster than I can water it, and plants are dying before my very eyes even though I have moved them out of the sun and into as sheltered a spot as I can. Most of my flowering plants are in pots so that I can shift them according to the seasons and the wind. I really struggle with gardening, having no green fingers whatsoever! I suppose I'll get it all figured out by the time I'm ready for Shady Pines, and then I'll only be able to have an indoor plant in my little room with kettle!

In the meantime, I'll keep adding to my collection of aloes and other indestructibles!

Teetering at the telescope

Last night our local astronomy club organised an informative mini-conference on telescopes, binoculars, astrophotography and video-astrophotography, followed by practical viewing through 8" (mine), 10" and 12" telescopes.The location was Rocklands, a well-appointed resort/conference centre down the southern end of the Peninsula with a view stretching from Muizenberg on the left across the Cape Flats, False Bay and the Hottentots Holland mountain range and ending at Hangklip - spectacular at any time of the day or night.

Guest speakers regaled us with their vast knowledge and experience in astronomy, observing and in some instances, just the technology of the instrumentation available to amateurs who wish to look out into the universe and appreciate our infinitesimally small place in it. We of the southern hemisphere have by far the best night sky objects to observe as we are tilted towards the centre of the Milky Way, while the northern hemisphere points more into the outer realms beyond our galaxy. The waning moon currently rises in the early hours and so it was a perfect night for viewing as far from the lights of the greater Cape Town metropole as possible.

Except, of course, for our old friend, the Cape Doctor, which was blasting through the southern Peninsula, bending the trees and whipping up dusty whirlwinds in the passageways between the buildings. Railings sounded like Pan pipes as the wind whistled and sang through them, and hats disappeared as they were torn from heads. It was the kind of wind no sensible person would venture out in.

You can perhaps imagine the scene: a telescope needs to be kept absolutely still to enable you to focus steadily on the object you are viewing through a very small eyepiece. The telescopes are rather large tubular devices and not in the least aerodynamic! I had to brace myself in quite an aggressive stance (thank goodness for Tai Chi training, which is all to do with the legs!) and grip the handles while locating Jupiter or 47 Tucanae, and then step away from the telescope, keeping it steady with both hands and endeavouring not to let it tip one millimetre either way, to allow someone else to peek through the eyepiece! Surprisingly, it did not go too badly and everyone got to see at least three well-known objects, along with millions of other stars flashing by when the wind wobbled the scope!

The camaraderie and cheerfulness of the participants seemed to match the strength of the wind, possibly because being buffeted around en masse can be quite amusing, and there was much laughter and repartee.

I can highly recommend such an outing to anyone who is even slightly interested in looking up and outwards. Somehow it directs you away from the cares of life here on earth and is restorative for the soul!

Almost changing seasons

Autumn is reaching out its chilly fingers, albeit tentatively, in the early mornings now. The sun is still beating it back by mid-morning, but the March lilies are already in bloom - signs of fading summer - and in the evenings the heat radiating out from the warm earth soon dissipates, giving the plants a hint that cooler times lie ahead. It's noticeably darker in the mornings, with my view of the Back Table changing as the angle of the sun on the mountain slopes reveals new shadows. It will be interesting to compare the photographs through the seasons - a pictorial history of the weather rather than a written record, as kept by my father over the last 40 or so years. You may ask him the weather for any day over that period and he can let you know, without the help of a computer or Google!

As the weather shifts up from the lower latitudes, the swell here off Kommetjie has been impressive to say the least, providing huge waves in a relatively calm sea, accentuated by the late southeaster currently blasting through the valley. It's a different sea to the winter storms, which are lumpy and breaking all over the place. This is a very defined break across the many reefs which surround us, and provides a great opportunity for identifying them and knowing where not to set your crayfish nets if you don't want a sudden unpleasant surprise. We have had many occasions when a rogue wave has appeared while we have drifted on the current, waiting to pull up our nets, and I always made it my business to keep a sharp eye on the sea, rather than chat idly and have a beer - the word 'fishwife' would probably best describe my panicked cries as I would shriek 'Start the engine, start the engine!' while He Who Can Fix Anything would just smile quietly and completely ignore me.

He's always been an expert boat handler and we've never sunk yet, although a wave did once catch him unawares and he had to make a very sharp turn, launching a crew member straight into the freezing water! But being a young boy who loved going in the boat with him, it was treated as a great joke, after fishing him out of the water and taking him home for hot coffee and a crayfish braai!

Aerial view of the Cape Peninsula

A lovely, shiny little red plane is circling low over the Kom, causing multiple panic in the pigeonry! Is it the Red Baron? No, I suspect it is someone giving a wave waggle to a friend who lives here - why else would a recreational plane fly so low? I rushed out to wave but it was gone before I could take a picture - I can never find my phone when I need it.

There's always some kind of aerial activity along this coastline, which is possibly alone in the scope of natural beauty available in such a small area as the Peninsula. I was once lucky enough to take a helicopter ride and snap these views, although they wouldn't allow me to lean out to avoid the reflection from the perspex!

This is where I live and walk every day - what a paradise, filled with exciting things to observe - snakes, porcupines, baboons, otters, the ever-changing sea, spectacular aloes of every colour and variety, ancient milkwoods providing dark shade on the hottest days and of course, birds, birds, birds.

The fairest Cape in all the circumference of the globe - Sir Francis Drake - and he didn't see it from above! The south-western tip of Africa, where two oceans do NOT meet, there is simply a mingling of ocean currents and a prevailing wind that prevents the growth of any vegetation higher than your head!

Fish Hoek looking towards the far-distant mountains of the Swartland across the Cape Flats. The patch on the sea is a reflection inside the helicopter! Somerset-West and Stellenbosch to the right and Kalk Bay harbour in the centre.

If you ever have the opportunity to do this trip, I highly recommend it. You will be able to spot all the sharks along the coastline on a clear day!

Tired of bad news

I read the news today, oh boy! The opening line of A Day in the Life by John Lennon and incidentally the inspiration for the name of my blog, applies as much to today's news headlines as it did in the 60s. There is a lot to be said for not reading the news or watching it on TV or listening to the radio - life is certainly less stressful when you are not bombarded with stories of the conflicts between governments (or rather the man in charge) and the people who no longer want to be ruled by them, laws being promulgated to allow domestic abuse of women (this one boggles the mind!), intention to pass laws that will jail gay persons as if they have committed a crime, payment of 300 000 pounds per week to a football player guaranteed for another 5 years, and a TV programme devoted to the lives of rich kids in Beverly Hills.

Security guards are to be employed at the base camp at Mt Everest to prevent fighting among the climbers and between them and Sherpas who are disenchanted with the detritus left behind by ever-increasing numbers of would-be conquerors of the peak - can you believe that one? China is angry because Obama is going to talk to the Dalai Lama! He's a man! What are they frightened of?

I won't even bother with the everyday murders, rapes, corruption, human trafficking, the drug trade, and abuse against women and children which are so commonplace that it seldom even warrants reporting anymore, here or in the world in general.

What a sad state humankind is in. Perhaps it would be best if Atlas shrugged and civilisation started at the bottom rung again.

In the meantime, we should continue to strive to be the best person we can be, with tolerance for all and a genuine desire for peace, and create a ripple effect in our own communities rather than trying to change the world and become discouraged. There is hope, but it has to come from within each one of us through remembering who we are and where we come from.

Catching a wave

On a hot and windy February day, Kommetjie has seen some of the biggest seas in a long time, made all the more impressive by the fantastic 'manes' of spray blowing 60 feet or more off the wave crests. I went down to the catwalk to get a good dose of ozone and spent an hour taking hundreds of photos with my little cellphone, totally caught up in the adrenalin rush of crashing water, scores of surfers and boardsailors, excited dogs and an abundance of seaspray in the air.

You won't be able to appreciate the size of the breaks on the horizon, but they were impressive, and I stopped to chat to a man who was taking photos with a lens about 18 inches long, and he told me he was taking pictures as a reference because he painted the sea. Funny you should say that, I said, and we had a long talk about the merits of various whites and blues and greens and how to get the see-through effect and mutual artist acquaintances. He wants to visit my studio at home and would like me to give him some lessons, but I assured him that all I could give him was encouragement, and we'll see what develops from there!

There were some very accomplished surfers of very young age out there, proud daddies lining the shore and whistling and gesticulating when they thought their progeny were too far out at the back. Lots of potential for the pro circuit down here in little Kommetjie!

Somewhat hot here in Cape Town

So did you all survive Sunday in Cape Town? That really was a bit of a scorcher, and a large part of the day was spent spraying water from the hosepipe straight up into the air and letting it fall down on me like rain in a thunderstorm - heavy drops well spaced and not at all cool. The other part of the day, believe it or not, was spent doing a bit of gardening - well actually a big bit of gardening. We mowed the lawn.

Things have got out of hand here since I last had my gardener. He claims to have gone blind from cataracts, and yet I still see him mowing the lawn up the road and even pruning the restios, and he certainly knows how to find my gate when he is looking for an advance on next year's payment. But no matter how many promises he makes about coming to work the next day, tomorrow never comes for Daniel, and I have pretty much given up on him now.

Just before Christmas, I scattered lawn food liberally, and watered day after day from the wellpoint, and the results were marvellous to behold! Soon a veritable jungle of grass had reared its head, particularly around the potplants, which got the bulk of the water, and soon the cat had a place to hide during the heat of the day, and flocks of sparrows came to feed on the grasslands of my back garden. Every day, as I cleared a path to the washline, I would think 'I should probably just run the Flymo over this quickly' and then find some excuse not to.

So on Saturday, HWCFA declared that on Sunday morning he was going to mow the lawn. Shock and amazement! This will be a first. It didn't matter that the weather forecast was for the hottest day in who knows how many years - the decision had been made and nothing was going to alter it. After half the lawn was done, I took over while he went off to start the weedeater. Those things drive me insane - by the time you actually get it started, you are covered in petrol and exhausted from pulling the stupid cord, and after a quick spin around the pot plant, the cord disappears inside the little hole and you battle for 10 minutes to coax it out again. However, that was not my problem, and eventually all was trimmed and neat and all that remained was for us to rake it all up and put it into bags. Of course, the rest of the world was relaxing on the beach or in a swimming pool.

I have to say that it was all worthwhile and in fact we were finished the whole job before it got really hot, but my thoughts did occasionally turn to sitting on the rocks with my feet in the sea, doing absolutely nothing.

Birds on a wire

With the southeaster pumping down the valley intermittently, we are confused by the season - is it November with galeforce winds, or February with dead calm days of blazing heat - it changes every few hours! At the moment we are being turned inside out again, but earlier I took the opportunity to get some air after another day on the computer and was enchanted to see these swallows lined up on the telephone wires. What will they do without these wires when everything goes wireless one day? Where would they all sit, and where to they sleep at night?

I wonder what this tune sounds like?

They look rather as though they are gathering for the return flight to either Angola or Europe - they had dark blue heads for those who can identify the species - but it is still too hot so that is unlikely. Maybe they just like to sit on the wires!

If it weren't for these birds, and the bats that live under my eaves, I'm sure the mosquito and other bug population would be ten times what it is at present, and they will probably be going home well fattened for the long trip. I wonder if they eat flies - does anything or are they just too revolting to contemplate even in nature?

Mother's 84th birthday lunch

Today is Mother's 84th birthday. She has been out every day this week, at various activities, and decided she would like to spend the day quietly at home. So her three daughters made lunch and brought it over to Clovelly and we sat outside on the deck next to the fish pond as we normally do, in a straight stripe. This means we sit with our backs against the wall facing towards the mountain, as it is the only strip of shade in the whole garden!

From this vantage point, we look straight across the garden and up the mountain and have a clear view of every bird, butterfly, flying insect and even an Emirates flight which popped up suddenly. The photo shows the pond where the cobra comes to drink - it's home is just at the foot of the telephone pole in the middle of the picture - but it wouldn't come down with us all sitting nearby. Perhaps in the cool of evening.

We have been in residence here for 56 years now and the only thing that changes is the vegetation as trees and shrubs grow and die back and are replaced by new ones. The property reaches up to the skyline along the middle of the photo and is completely wild and uncultivated. We used to run up and down that bit of mountainside nearly every day as children, often coming across the odd puffadder or porcupine, but no harm ever befell us. Today the pathways through the bush are overgrown and the caution that comes with adulthood keeps us away from chance encounters with the wildlife. It will be a mammoth task to clear that lot, but one day it will be undertaken and the amazing rock formations and little caves that are now hidden from view will be accessible again to be enjoyed by anyone sitting in a straight stripe under the eaves of the house.

Here is the birthday girl with Father. They will have been married 62 years next week.

So there we sat - Mother, Father and three daughters - ranging in age from 85 to 57. The five of us who arrived there 56 years ago, alive and kicking still. How marvellous!

Wash-day blues

For many years I have clung to the belief that most women's conversations revolve around the ordinary, everyday world of household chores, bringing up children and complaining about men. While I am not all that averse to the latter, I have always strenuously avoided being involved in the first two discussions, but it has now become imperative that I find someone who can tell me about laundry!

Over the last six months or so, my washing has on most occasions come out of the machine dirtier than when it went in. Sometimes the washing powder is stuck to the clothes, not even dissolved! I have tried new powders and have now moved on to liquid detergents without luck. It is a toploader and my feeling is that the dirt is getting deposited on the laundry as the water drains out, rather than the dirt being dissolved in the water.

Putting on a smaller load hasn't helped, nor has filling the machine with water from the hot tap and doing a cycle - that just drained out after the first round and it filled up with the usual room temperature cold water.
And the lint! Don't get me started on the lint! It adheres to every crease in the cotton items, necessitating vigorous brushing with a clothes brush once dry, although you might think it had been superglued on!

You might ask why He Who Can Fix Anything hasn't at least opened the machine up to look for the obvious things like clogged pipes and blocked filters - well, he did have a half-hearted look during the motor racing season, but the inside of a washing machine doesn't hold the same interest as a V8 engine and very little transpired from his cursory glance. I had a look myself but couldn't locate a problem.

I think I should take a load to the laundrette and see how it works out there just to make sure it's the machine and not the detergent.

And that must rank as the most boring topic I have ever had the displeasure of writing about! But if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know.

Trekking in the bay

It's taken me a while, but I have at last hit on the word I was looking for to describe the colour of the sea in False Bay yesterday, in the shallows along the shoreline - aquamarine! Kind of obvious really, being rather literally translated as water of the sea! It struck me as I was looking through my collection of crystals and in particular the main stone on a favourite necklace, an aquamarine - hence the memory jog.

Living level with the sea here in Kommetjie, I don't have the advantage of a large portion of the Fish Hoek and Clovelly population who live up on the mountainside and have such magnificent views across the bay towards the Hottentots Holland mountains in the distance and the sheltered waters of Fish Hoek bay below. I have a dear friend who lives directly above the beach, and on the occasions when I visit, the first thing I do is head for the floor-to-ceiling windows that form the front 'wall' of the house to look for sharks. To date, I have never seen one and I don't think she has either. But then, who has time to stand looking out of the window all day?

A walk along the top road on Elsie's Peak to the sharkspotter's hut will soon reveal why they chose that spot to spot from! It must be an ideal job for someone who enjoys plenty of their own company with only the birds in the pincushions and other fynbos for distraction, and perhaps the odd tortoise or snake. I'm sure they appreciate the odd visit from hikers who drop off cooldrinks and sticky buns from time to time in appreciation of the fine job they have been doing for years now. As I recall, and I am open to correction, the original purpose of the watchers on the mountain was to spot the shoals of yellowtail coming into the bay in summer. I have a vague recollection that the man on the hill would blow a whistle or some similar instrument to alert the fishermen when the shoal appeared, so that they could launch the boat (Rio Rita) through the waves and start rowing out towards the shoal. The man would then signal with flags (this was long before the days of cellphones!) in a kind of semaphore to show the fishermen which way to row to ensure that they were circling the net around the shoal, and then indicate when they could head back to shore to begin the long haul of the catch onto the beach. There were always plenty of willing helpers to pull on the ropes and mothers would rush along the beach to see if they could buy a fish for supper. There was none fresher.

Alas! Those days are gone. Today, when there is a catch, a truck is waiting to take it all to who knows where for processing and we now have to go to the fish shop to buy our fish after the middleman has taken his cut! If we hadn't had the good fortune to experience the trekking on the beach in our youth, we would be none the wiser regarding the supply chain that adds no value to our purchase, merely expense.

Those were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end...

False Bay flat as a pond, sharks abound

Crossed the Peninsula today to sample the view over Simon's Town by way of a change. False Bay has been exceptionally warm these last few weeks and with a lack of south easter and often a westerly wind, completely flat and clear as the Mediterranean. A paradise for swimmers and beachgoers, of which I'm afraid I'm not. The older I get, the less attractive I find the prospect of swimming, either in the sea or a swimming pool, although truth to tell I know I would enjoy it if I did. It was Jaws that did it for me, way back in the early 70s, I think. We used to swim - or at least jump in the breakers - at Fish Hoek beach in the night, when a summer's day had been particularly sultry and the smell of the ozone enticed us under the moonlight. But after Jaws, there was just no way I was going back in the water.

When I look at the documentary on how it was made, and see the mechanical shark head, I can only wonder how we could have been fooled, but I think that it was the music that built up the anticipation of the shark leaping from the water that frightened us most, and we probably turned our heads away from the screen at that moment, and so not getting a really much of a discerning look at the actual shark! Turns out that we were well advised to stay out of the water, particularly in Fish Hoek bay, where fatal attacks are recent in our memories and a shark exclusion net now provides a safe haven for wary swimmers. It seems to be working well and is much appreciated by all the regulars who refuse to be scared off anyway. It is probably their families that are most appreciative!

Helicopter shots show that there are sharks all along the coastline between Muizenberg and Cape Point and there is no doubt that they have always been there; we just couldn't see them from the beach. Surfers will tell stories of sighting sharks in the vicinity of the Kalk Bay reef for years now, but apparently there is very little that will keep a surfer from his wave!

Following my Shark! story which was in no way embellished, various fishing friends have confirmed that they too have had sharks jumping into their boats, both during the day and at night, the latter incident seeming to involve the light on the mast! Perhaps after all they just enjoy jumping?

A bird in the hand

It seems as though little Susie is not the only one with poor eyesight (apart from us). Every day there is a thud against a window, of varying intensity relative to the size of the bird which doesn't seem to know it's flying into the house. It's not as if the windows are clear - living next to the sea and being a double storey means that window cleaning is rather low on my housework priorities - so I'm not sure what causes it. Yesterday a bird hit a window so hard that I can only think it was being chased, or had been hit by a sparrowhawk, as that has happened before to the accompaniment of thousands of tiny feathers wafting down for ages. I couldn't find the victim despite an investigative foray into the garden, so it will have to remain a mystery.

Doves and pigeons regularly leave an imprint of spreadeagled wings and a bent neck and sometimes an eyeprint, but it's seldom fatal and they sit on the ground for a while to regain their composure before disappearing into the blue yonder again.

This morning I found a little Cape White-eye sitting on the balcony, quite unconcerned by our presence and not looking injured in any way. It wouldn't have been a good idea to leave it there as a snack for the cat, so I reached down to pick it up and it didn't bat an eyelid. I carried it around, moving it from hand to hand and it had no ruffled feathers or apparent injury, but was quite happy to sit on my finger with its tiny claws clinging tenaciously to this strange, soft twig.

It was only when I reached out to stroke its tiny head that it took flight, swiftly swooping over the treetops and into the shelter of a coprosma. What a privilege it was, to hold this fragile creature which showed no fear.

Walking in unspoiled nature

While I wouldn't go so far as to say the air was slightly autumnal today - the light is still that of summer - but a harbinger of autumn sent some cloud cover over the Peninsula. Our early morning walk down to the lighthouse was beneath a cloudless sky, only a strong shore break giving away what was to arrive a bit later. Early surfers were out there taking advantage of some steep waves and wipeouts were very much the order of the day - not something I have seen often in all my years observing at the Outer Kom.

 The lighthouse, which was completely restored externally only two years ago, is once again adorned in a cloak of scaffolding, which leads one to think that the contract for maintenance must have gone out to tender and as is usual these days, will entail frequent painting with inferior materials, rather than the old way of making it last for 10 years or so. At least the scaffolding is quite attractive, being uniformly red and without the ragged pieces of hessian which were randomly attached last time. The lighthouse is now our very own Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Later in the day, we took a drive down to Scarborough with the doggies in the Mini for a run on the small beach. By then, the sky had darkened and the sea was churning ashore, kite boarders in evidence far out. The dogs have apparently aged significantly since we last were down there, as normally they run and run, side by side, until nearly out of sight before rushing back to us. But this time, Monty barely broke into a trot, and poor little Susie, who in the last few days seems to have lost her sight in the other eye now, didn't leave our heels. I fear it is time to get her a pair of dark glasses and a little white stick.

I had barely got home when I got an invitation to go walking around the island here in Kommetjie, so despite an outlook threatening rain, off I set again. It really is the most marvellous place to walk, allowing you to look back towards the shoreline as if out at sea and giving a panoramic view over the Peninsula mountain chain starting with the Sentinel on the left and ending the with lighthouse at the foot of Slangkop. Out to sea, anchovy boats chugged towards the horizon, disappearing into the shadow of approaching rain, and the waves continued to tower higher and higher, gleaming brightly in the shards of sunlight breaking through gaps in the clouds as they tumbled and foamed towards the rocks.

In total, on all three walks I don't think we passed more than 15 people (all accompanied by numerous dogs). It's hard to believe that so few are out there enjoying this spectacular area of natural beauty, but then again, perhaps that is what adds to its attraction - it is relatively unspoiled except for easily accessible areas.

Long may it last.

A Cape Town summer's day

How magnificent is this day? Not hot and not cold. No wind. No clouds. Sunlight glittering off the crests of wavelets stretching as far as the horizon, the surface of the sea in between a glossy, glassy, glistening stretch of reflected cerulean.

In the garden, birds idly stretch their wings, catching any air movement to keep cool, or swooping swiftly among the drops of water fountaining from the hosepipe I am holding skywards. A few showers overnight have dampened the earth, allowing man-made rain to seep quickly below the surface to be sucked up thirstily at grassroot level, denying the sun an opportunity to reclaim the moisture and turn it into fluffy white clouds.

I look up and see a cottonwool cloud appear from thin air, and within minutes it has swirled into a new shape and then disappeared, while in the background two new clouds appear to show that, while we are delighting in a wind-free day down here, the atmosphere is in a constant state of turbulence, allowing us to experience different weather patterns, rather than eternal winter or endless summer.

 

Random thoughts and a picture

It's been days since I posted a blog, which unfortunately means that I have found nothing worth saying! Life continues as usual: work, work, work (thank goodness!), Tai Chi when I get the chance and coffee with good friends to lift the spirits and give the fingers and eyes a break. Computers definitely take their toll on the human body and I often wonder whether, in many years from now, we will be told that excessive use is a leading cause of eye disease or curvature of the spine! I know for sure it causes stultification of the brain.

Here in Cape Town, the late summer days continue to be a delight, with temperatures in the high 20s and very little wind to speak of making life very comfortable, thank you. Foreign visitors flock to our shores at this time of year as they know this is the best time to enjoy all that we have to offer - school children are back behind their desks, the wind free days are usually at their maximum and chances of rain are at a minimum.

This morning I was awoken by the ghostly booming of a foghorn creeping in from the sea. Looking out of the window, I see nothing but blue skies and the sea is visible far out to sea, so I can only imagine the ship must be going through a pocket of fog quite far out. The forecast is for cloud and cooler weather, but that is no cause for alarm as cooler is great for the garden. The birds are out in force, with a flock of grey-headed sparrows to be found pecking on the lawn every day - with all the food and water I have been giving to my plants this summer, it is looking jungle-like and even the cat can now lie hidden like a lion in the long grass, doubtless with an eye on one of those sparrows for a snack. My favourite flock of sacred ibis has just flown overhead on their way to their feeding grounds down at Soetwater, just beyond the lighthouse. The flock is much smaller than it used to be, but it may be that they have split into groups and take off at different times.

I hope that the weekend will bring something exciting to relate, but in the meantime, here is a totally random picture to enjoy: It's a view from Franschhoek towards Stellenbosch in the late afternoon of a summer's day.

Birds enjoying the fruits of nature

Leaning against the fence watching the Cape White-eyes darting in and out of the ivy and coprosma shrubbery, feasting on the berries in the late afternoon, as is their wont. These little birds are so fast, I don't know if their flight speed has ever been measured, but over short bursts they must surely be the cheetahs of the avian world. And they never miss a branch. Always perfectly parked.

I'm wearing my floral shirt and obviously doing a good imitation of a rose bush, because a bird swooped out of the bush like lightning and nearly stuck its beak up my nostril! He must have had the reflexes of a fighter pilot as he veered off to the left and into the hibiscus, while I was still blinking.

At this time of year, when the berries are ripe and the birds are stocking up their fat supplies for winter (although I can't imagine a fat Cape White-eye), the ground is a minefield of brightly coloured bird droppings, each one revealing that particular bird's favoured diet. While the White-eyes relish the sticky, bright orange coprosma berries and enjoy spitting out the pips into your hair if you are sitting underneath the tree, Redwing Starlings prefer the glossy, dark purple milkwood berries. These form 'bombs' that splatter against the washing flapping spotlessly on the washline in perfect drying conditions and by the time you have discovered the large purple splashes, they have set nicely and it requires a few washes to get the stains out.

The berries that fall on the ground are also hazardous, sticking in the treads of your shoes and getting walked into the carpets if you don't notice. Or if you are like me, lodging between the toes and under the soles of your bare feet, necessitating long soaking in a bucket of hot foam bath to try and clean it off. No detergent footbath for me, thank you, even if it is more effective.

I love the smell of milkwoods in berry, but that is not something shared by many others, who turn up their noses and associate it with all kinds of aromas which shall remain nameless, as I don't want to spoil my own assessment of the smell! But there is no doubt that the accompanying mess is something I could do without.

Shark!

On Saturday morning, a close friend who has been a fisherman all his life was anchored in False Bay, catching linefish with another friend who was teaching his 9-year-old son to fish. There were five other crew members on the boat - an old traditional wooden Kalk Bay fishing boat of maybe 5m in length.

They were catching mackerel and an assortment of other fish, all standing or sitting on the gunwales, when a 4 metre great white shark launched itself from the deep sea, its mouth gaping wide and rows of deadly teeth exposed, straight onto the boat. Its trajectory indicated that it was after the small boy, whose father instinctively literally snatched him from the jaws of death, flinging himself and his son backwards into the laaitjies (fishing boxes) and smashing the wooden partitions to smithereens.

Our friend, Peter, who was at the back of the boat behind the cabin, recalls that, apart from the shock of the suddenness of the attack, the sight of the teeth and the size of the shark, the most vivid recollection of the entire 10-second event was the revolting smell that came from the shark - something that he says he will never forget. At the time, his only concern was to get out of the way of the shark, which had struck the side of the little cabin, nose first, and was now sliding off the boat and back into the water. His only refuge was the cabin and he threw himself onto the floor as tons of shark passed overhead.

The whole incident was over before anyone could give a warning. They picked themselves up and not a word was said. The rest of the crew were bug-eyed and when everyone could talk again, it was a case of let's just get the hell out of here! Which they did.

Being fishermen, after travelling a few kilometres, they stopped again to throw out a line, a ironically hooked a small shark of another species. As it was being hauled in, another great white sped up behind it and took the whole thing before their very eyes. That was fishing over for the day!

He has been fishing in the bay for more than 40 years and has never experienced anything like it. I'm not sure how the little boy is feeling - probably quite traumatised, but one thing is for sure: when they ask him at school what he did on the weekend, he will be the star of the class and be able to dine out on his story for the rest of his life!

A bustle of birdlife

There's been a lot of jostling for position in the old spider gum next door lately. The other day, a dove and a juvenile black sparrowhawk were engaged in a sparring match, pecking at each other as they vied for the same space on a favoured branch. It was a most strange interaction between predator and prey, as they seemed oblivious of their natural hierarchy. Eventually the sparrowhawk moved off to another branch and sulked for a while before flying off.

This morning, a paradise flycatcher, with its characteristic bobbing flight and elegant tail, is being relentlessly pursued by a fiscal flycatcher, which has two babies preening themselves among the branches. The paradise flycatcher eventually gives in, and settles on the tip of a branch about a foot away from a red-faced mousebird, who takes absolutely no notice of him and he leaves, no doubt to seek a nice reflective window to admire himself in. This activity forms quite a part of his waking hours.

Unconcerned by all this activity, a pair of red-wing starlings are attending to their youngster. Yesterday the young bird flew into a window and became disorientated, fluttering down to the ground while the parents watched and called to it from the rooftop. One bird would fly down and sit on the fence, calling to it and then flying back up to the roof, in an effort to encourage it to get away from the clutches of the cat which is always around. It hopped about in the shrubbery while the parent kept calling and flying down to it and after about half an hour it flew safely back onto the roof. Fascinating to see parenting in the bird world.

And here's a treat! As I am looking at the assortment of small birds hopping among the twigs, in the background I see six flamingos coming in to land in the Kom. They are the most beautiful birds in flight, necks and legs outstretched and dark pink wings gently flapping them through the air.

There's no doubt about it, there is always something interesting to see when you keep looking up!