Day 5 at the daisies

Last night we were halfway through supper when the lights went out at the cottage. Being the only inhabitants of the farm some 8km outside Kamieskroon, it was rather dark and lonely and we were soon on the phone to the owner, who told us the whole area was in darkness but the authorities would be working on it, as so many phone calls were coming in. Sure enough about two hours later, the electricity came back on. We took advantage of the total darkness to do a little stargazing and I can only say the view of the Milky Way was magnificent. There can be no better conditions for viewing.

Today the wind died down a little and was quite warm, so I took out the only summer clothes I had packed and dispensed with a jersey. Temperatures rose to 28 degrees in places, so I was grateful for having had a tiny bit of foresight. We had by now had enough of self-catering and would be eating out for the rest of the trip, starting with breakfast at the Kamieskroon Hotel. Mom and Dad have stayed here often over the years since Dad first began taking tourists up to the flowers in 1988 and are well known to the owner, so they enjoyed a bit of chit chat before we left for Nieuwoudtville to see the bulbs.

There were very few flowers on the way down to Vanrhynsdorp, as it may be a little early still, but there were occasional bursts of colour among the low shrubs, indicating that spring has still to arrive. We took the Van Rhyn’s Pass up the escarpment to the Hantam plateau (this was the last pass to be built by Thomas Bain) and had spectacular views of the Knersvlakte below. The hills of Namaqualand gave way to a fairly level plain and soon we reached the area just outside Nieuwoudtville where the flowers are at their best. Today it was yellow and orange daisies, dotted with blue, red and white in other varieties and a walk in the veld allowed us to see the tinier bulbs which don’t give mass displays. It really was breathtaking.

The last picture is of the glacial striations in the rocks from a time when this area formed part of Gondwanaland before continental drift had split the landmasses. Fascinating stuff!

On the way back in the late afternoon, driving along the dirt road, of course we hit a rock by driving too close to the verge and I just knew it was bad news. Sure enough, a puncture. The very reason I had come on the trip – to fix such an eventuality. Naturally, the spare tyre was under three suitcases, two camera cases, a cooler box and four smaller containers, plus an assortment of blankets, hats, naartjies, tripod and first aid kit. I had barely started to lug this lot out when a car pulled up and asked if we needed help. Obviously I said that would be a marvellous idea, and a very able-bodied gentleman helped to unclip the spare, remove the jack from its mounting (I had no idea how to do that) and change the tyre. There is no doubt I would never have managed it alone, as I just didn’t have the strength. So much for being there to look after Mom and Dad!

We were able to offer them advice on where to stay and fortunately they found accommodation, so at least we had something to give back. We were soon ensconced at a very nice guest house, which will be providing dinner later and breakfast tomorrow. There are electric blankets on the beds, although the temperature at the moment doesn’t feel as though we will need them, and every other convenience.

So all’s well that ends well. We will have to buy a new tyre though.

Day 4 at the daisies

During the night, a strong wind gusted in from the east, rattling the corrugated iron roof alarmingly. I expected it to peel off and fly away across the veld at any moment, but Mother said she wasn’t worried because it wasn’t our roof. Not quite the point. However, daybreak came with all intact, with the promise of a sunny and warmer day, although too blustery to stand outside without having to lean into the wind.

We set off after breakfast to the buzzing metropolis of Kamieskroon where we found a butchery/store and bought meat for dinner. A local with a walking stick tucked under his arm was hovering around the till and every time he turned, he would whack us with the stick. That was the extent of the excitement in Kamieskroon. Last night I had an unfortunate incident with a pot of braised cabbage and we needed bicarb to unstick the centimetre of carbon from the inside of the pot, so a call at the local supermarket was also needed. There were only 5 people in the shop on a payday Saturday, so you can picture the scene outside – virtually no one in sight – a pleasure to shop there, unlike the chaos in Springbok. Hopefully tonight’s cooking will proceed without incident.

The flowers were starting to open when we reached the Skilpad Nature Reserve just west of Kamieskroon, but the wind was so strong that the fields were ripples of orange rather than carpets. It was nigh impossible to get out of the car, and everything was soon covered in a fine film of dust, not helped by the buses and 4x4s that sped by, obviously on a schedule and not wanting to stop at the side of the road to watch a gymnogene hunting. The rippling effect was in a way even more attractive than a mass display, and we were fortunate to see a pair of springbok close up as they crossed the field in front of us. Although there were millions of flowers which opened as the day progressed and the temperature rose to 22 degrees, the springbok were the only fauna to be seen. Not even a lizard or tortoise crossed the road, and seeing a branch covered in a seething mass of hairy caterpillars was not a highlight of my day.

Among the orange daisies and grielums were masses of purple vygies in tight bud, which were beginning to open and should be in full bloom within a week or two and will make an incredible display. Smaller flowers such as the babiana, laperousia, homeria and herrea, as well as carpets of tiny blue felicia were scattered generously across the fields. Although walking among the flowers is no longer allowed, there are trails and small paths specifically laid out for hikers and those brave enough to battle against the wind. The highest part of the reserve, an outcrop called Dak van Namakwaland, affords views of the sea in the distance and a panoramic view into the hinterland.

All in all, a magnificent display, well worth the long drive from Cape Town for anyone who hasn’t yet seen the flowers. Tomorrow we are off to Nieuwoudtville to see the bulbs.

Day 3 at the daisies

We woke up to clear skies and cold air after a rather wakeful night for me (the bed was like concrete).  With a maximum temperature of 13 forecast for the day, there was no point in rushing out to look for flowers and after a leisurely breakfast and stroll around the vicinity of our cottage, we set off for Springbok. I always imagined the Northern Cape to be vast areas of flat desert, but of course it comprises Klipkoppe, which are rounded granite hills, many smooth but the majority being covered in loose boulders formed by exfoliation, the result of the extremes of temperature experienced in the region.

Although the fields along the road were covered in yellow, orange and purple flowers, none of them were open, as they do so under ideal conditions from about 11am. We bypassed the most important town of the region, Springbok, and turned off to visit the copper mining town of Nababeep, now way past its heyday, and an unprepossessing town it was. One cannot imagine what anyone does there to make a living or even survive. Even its coating of bright orange daisies didn’t detract from the general air of decline.

Our destination for the day was Goegap, a nature reserve near the Carolusberg mine. On the way we turned into Springbok as we wanted to buy meat for tonight’s meal, but it was Friday and the end of the month, and you can only imagine the chaotic conditions, with taxis and every wage earner in the region in town for shopping. There was absolutely no chance of my going into the local supermarket just for a pack of mince, so we abandoned that idea and decided to just cook what we had – a repeat of last night’s dinner – chicken and vegetables.

We reached Goegap, passing a vast mine dump at Carolusberg, and miles of closed flowers stretched in every direction. The day was slowly warming up and patches of orange daisies half opened for the many tourists who had made the trip, and when the sun was behind the flowers and backlighting them, there was no shortage of oohs and aahs. Besides flowers, there were many birds, gemsbok, baboons, Brant’s whistling rats (scuttling in and out of their burrows with whole plants that they were digging up, for food or nesting material) and zebra. The sunshine warmed us nicely in the car, but outside the wind chill was freezing and we also scuttled back inside. The office building at the nature reserve is newly built and although there were signs to a kiosk and curio shop, there was unfortunately nothing on offer, as the running of these shops is subject to tender and as is the norm, no decision has been made as to who will be awarded it. So the public have no access to any form of refreshment, miles from nowhere at a tourist destination. We hadn’t taken any padkos as such a situation is unheard of in a country where every road trip is punctuated by stops at a roadside farmstall or other eatery. However, we survived, having discovered a bag of naartjies in the boot, and later in the day, the temperature rose sufficiently for many flowers to open and provide us with a spectacular display.

We eventually returned to our cottage, where we spent the remains of the day sunning ourselves on the stoep and taking photos of the flowers in the veld nearby.

Day 2 of daisies in the rain

After a good night’s sleep in the old school, and a hearty breakfast, it was back on the road again. We were heading further north to Kamieskroon and it seemed as though the weather was clearing, with plenty of bright sunshine, but it wasn’t long before another cold front swept in from the sea, bringing heavy rain and icy winds. Snow is forecast for the higher areas and 7 degrees is the maximum temperature for tomorrow. So although we are expecting sunshine for the next few days as the fronts move away, the owner of the Kamieskroon Hotel assures us that unless the air temperature rises above 17 degrees, the flowers still won’t open. We heard from other travellers that the Calvinia and Springbok areas are magnificent, but they too are under rain clouds so there is no point chasing inland.

We are extremely comfortably ensconced in a cottage in the mountains at present, with heaters in every room, every convenience for the self-caterer, from salt to spare toothbrushes, and the prospect of a stroll in the veld and up the mountain behind us once the rain has cleared. There is evidence that we are surrounded by masses of wild flowers although they are tightly closed to preserve the precious pollens from being washed away by the rain before pollination can take place. Should seeds not form for next season, this would be disastrous for the economy of the region, which relies so heavily on the tourism generated by the natural wonder of its floral kingdom.

There must be many, many disappointed bus tours up here at the moment, with the inclement weather extending so far into the flower season. We have seen lots of caravans making the trip to camp among the flowers and I can only say that I am incredibly grateful that we are in this homely and thoughtfully appointed establishment.

Off to the daisies in the rain

It's off to see the daisies day! Of course it dawned wet and windy and somehow the traffic going into Cape Town was taking forever. It transpired that one car had broken down in the right line outside the Forestry station and of course the whole world stopped to look. After a delay of about 20 minutes, the traffic flowed freely thereafter. By the time we had reached the outskirts of urban Cape Town, we were ready for coffee and turned in at the Farmyard just after the Melkbosstrand turnoff on the West Coast road. It was still drizzling and a welcoming blazing fire in the grate was just the thing as we tucked into some really good filter coffee and an omelette. The parents chose milk tart and were presented with slices that filled a side plate, which they pronounced to be excellent. Duly fortified, it was time to get on the road and look for some sunshine and flowers.

Well, today it was not to be, and there are roadworks with 10 minute delay stop and go areas all the way up to Clanwilliam. Being the only road to Namibia, we were frequently the jam in a truck sandwich, and these are no ordinary trucks, but the double trailer pantechnicon type. Most drivers were well behaved, with only a few 4x4s anxious to get to the next stop and go before us, and because of these delays, the constant rain and poor visibility, it was 2pm by the time we reached Clanwilliam. There we partook of an excellent lunch of bobotie at Nancy's Tearoom, although why it is called a tearoom I cannot say. It was more like the dining room of a good hotel in ambience and decor and on a hot day, of which there are plenty, the outdoor eating area would be an ideal place for those who are travelling through, with shady trees and the Olifants River nearby.

Then it was back on the road and by 4pm, through the misty mountains and cloudy skies with an occasional burst of bright sunshine, we reached tonight's destination in Klawer. We are staying in a converted school and the rooms are the size of a classroom, with a shower/toilet and kitchenette installed. Although it is styled self-catering there is also a dining room where all meals are served, as long as you tell them you want one. The kitchen has all the things you need to self-cater, except for sharp knives, spatulas, serving spoons, bottle openers and most important of all, a tin opener. So basically you cannot cook anything that needs more than a fork to deal with it. However, clean and comfortable will do for one night, and tomorrow will tell regarding breakfast.

More of my garden

Spring is sprung, the grass is ris, I wonder where the boidies is? The boid is on the wing! But that's absoid, the wing is on the boid!

 Raspberry ripple, which I suspect is from Australia, is providing the bees with lots of what they want, so it can't be all bad. The lavender seeds itself all over the garden and I let it just grow wherever it wants, occasionally cutting it back a bit when it starts to straggle.

 As you can see, we have had a boatload of water this winter. That little boat has been emptied twice in the last few months. Perhaps we should rather use a water tank for catchment! The mosquito population breeds very successfully in the boat and has easy access to a meal as the boat is outside the bedroom window.

 
My pride and joy, the indigenous lobostemom, has survived another summer and winter in a pot on the balcony and is just coming into bloom, rather later than those growing on the mountains. These plants appear to be quite temperamental and it often threatens to die, so I have to speak nicely and stroke its leaves and then all is well again.

I will be away looking at the flowers in Namaqualand for a week and have no idea when I will be in contact again. So enjoy the rest!

Will it or won't it rain?

As I opened the front door at 6am to let the dogs out, I was hit by a wave of hot air - a berg wind had developed overnight, bringing warm air from inland, as is common before the onset of another cold front. The stars were sparkling overhead and it looked as though it would be a beautiful day. And it was, for half an hour, by which time the wind had swung from north east to north west and the sea had developed a serious chop and the palm trees were already taking strain.

But as there were no signs of a cloud, I set off for the day in summer attire, with numerous stops on the way into Cape Town. The views of the mountains across the Cape Flats were amazing and the wild flowers lining Ou Kaapse Weg a sight to behold. As I began the descent from the top of Woodstock along the foothills of Table Mountain, I was amazed to see a puff of white cloud developing over Signal Hill, but put it down to thermals.

An extremely pleasant and entertaining couple of hours was spent in Kloof Street having lunch with really fun people. Entertainment was provided by one of the waitresses, who seemed to be having a really Blue Monday, first tripping over a chair leg and nearly dropping a fully tray of empty dishes, then recovering her balance, only to trip a little further on. Everything lay in smithereens on the floor, while patrons took absolutely no notice and it was swept up with no fuss. A little while later there was a repeat performance for those who had missed it the first time. I doubt whether her tips will have covered the costs today. Poor girl.

When we went outside, low cloud had completely covered the Peninsula and was sweeping over Kloof Nek at the rate of knots. The cableway was, of course, closed due to high wind and no visibility. When I got back to Kommetjie, we were back in blazing sunshine, as usual, but half an hour later, the cold front proper had arrived and it was again time to batten down the hatches.

That's Cape Town in Spring!

Spring flowers and surfing

It's completely still and silent in Kommetjie as I take the gap and walk up to Espresso for a cappuccino or two. The offshore wind carries the sound of the heavy shore break out to sea and there is no wind to rustle the leaves of the old gum trees lining the roadway. A pale blue sky frosted with ice clouds reaches endlessly out into the universe, crossed by the occasional bird or light aircraft enjoying a flip around the Peninsula on this perfect early Spring day.

At the coffee shop, that's the end of the silence, but the conversation behind me is fascinating - two surfing instructors exchanging tutorial experiences. Apparently the most important thing you should teach a novice surfer is how to avoid taking the board in the teeth - learn to fall away from the board. Makes sense! Yesterday was a practice for the Dungeons Big Wave challenge which will apparently take place mid-week when the next cold front arrives. For now the swells are down on yesterday, when Sunset was the place for all the action - a flotilla of watercraft bearing photographers clustered around the reef as the daredevils risked board and limb on some impressive waves. Outer Kom is pumping at low tide and this afternoon's high tide should bring swarms of spectators to the rocks to sit among the masses of daisies and enjoy the surfing.

A friend joined me and said a giant squid had washed up this morning at Long Beach, half the body cut away (either bitten, sliced or taken away by someone for a calamari lunch!) and ends of the tentacles missing. The initial diameter of the tentacles was about 4 inches and the remains of the body about 2 feet. Who knows what else lurks out there in the deep?

A walk on the island among the daisies was required before returning home for the - as usual - Sunday braai.

A morning meditation

Another beautiful day dawns in Cape Town as spring bursts forth from the earth in a new cycle of growth and abundance.  We should be reminded that nature takes no notice of what is happening in the world and simply continues the process of renewal. We too can exist in that way. Every day is an opportunity for a new beginning, and chance to change things for the better. It doesn't depend on what anyone else is doing. It all begins with you.

It doesn't matter what culture you belong to or what beliefs you follow. When it is time to shuffle off this mortal coil, we all return to the place from when we came, a place without physicality. Everyone on earth has a purpose even though many will never find it. Some are here to lead and others to follow. Some are here to destroy and others to build. We are all here to teach each other what it is we do or do not want to be. We have been given free will to make decisions for ourselves. Unless we use that free will, our purpose can never be revealed.

Stay true to yourself and your inner feelings of what is right for the world and don't be afraid to stand up and be counted. Life is beautiful and death is not to be feared. Live with joy in your heart, lead a simple life and you will be rich in all ways that matter.

Down the jetty

I just love harbours. The smell of diesel deeply ingrained in the old wooden boats, the bright colours of the hulls, the odd seal rolling and diving in the hopes of cadging a piece of fish cleanings, the extremely colourful language emanating from engine rooms through the hatches as fishermen grapple with leaking valves and seawater in the bilges.

Kalk Bay harbour is full of crayfish boats at the moment and the jetties are jam-packed three abreast, so if your boat is on the outside you have to jump across two others to get there. There was plenty of activity, although no fishing had been going on due to inclement weather, probably because hanging out on the boat is preferable to hanging out with the fishwife. Is that where the name arose? From nagging wives whose husbands didn't bring home a fish?

It was nearly lunch time and a piece of fish was calling me. Kalky's was nearby, but some years back I had the worst meal I've ever had from there and vowed never to return. But I was feeling charitable (i.e. hungry) and gave them a second chance. Happily, the experience was good - fresh enough fish (suspect frozen but well handled), light and very thin batter, although very oily and it didn't sit heavy in the stomach. I can't comment on the chips as I didn't have any. It still didn't match the fish I cook at home, which happily comes straight off the boats, but for a not too expensive meal for a family enjoying a day out, it passed muster.

The sun came out and a stroll along the jetties made for a perfect ending to a trip to Kalk Bay harbour.

Winter's not yet over

Oh, boy! Has winter returned with a vengeance to Cape Town. It seems as though we are having next year's rain as well just in case we don't have winter in 2015. It's a bit of a waste, really, because the dams are full and can't retain the water, which gushes down the mountains in spectacular waterfalls and rivers, eventually replenishing the sea, which I suppose is a purpose all of its own.

Temperatures are dropping to the low teens and we are promised a swell of 15 foot coming up from the South Atlantic in the next day or so, providing ideal conditions for the Big Wave competition at Dungeons. So some people are looking forward to it! Having had relatively flat seas for some weeks now in our Indian summer, it will be a change to have churning waves ripping the kelp from the seabed and depositing it in huge piles of twisted stems and fronds along the shoreline. This is the food of the sea louse, talorchestia capensis, which in turn is the favoured meal of the sacred ibis and other shore feeders, and so the heavy seas perpetuate the cycle of life on the beaches.

He Who Can Fix Anything decided, during the recent heatwave, that the electric blanket could be packed away for summer. I, of course, knew better, but he knows everything. So now it's a case of who gives in first - do I just put it back on the bed or does he first admit he was wrong - quite tempting to wait for the latter. Having never used an electric blanket until a month or so ago, I can only say that I was a fool to think they might be dangerous and suffer years of frozen feet keeping me awake at night.

Perhaps I will get it out of the cupboard, just in case...

Cranes and things

I've always been fascinated by cranes. The mechanical ones, not the birds, although they are also interesting.
When I was a kid my parents gave me a set of plastic meccano-type shapes and nuts and bolts called Junior Engineer and it was without a doubt my favourite toy. The thing I built most often was a crane, with a piece of string for the chain and a chunky red hook on the end, and the mechanism would wind it up and down. All very simple, but I enjoyed the way it fitted together and served a purpose.

Today I still find myself stopping to look at cranes, such as this one which spent the day dumping concrete at a house being built nearby, and felt compelled to take photos of the folding up process - taken through the kitchen window because it happened so fast I didn't have time to run up the road. When it was all neatly folded, the truck rode away, mission accomplished with the least possible fuss and disruption to traffic.
 
The next day, I was at the local mall and a truck had come to take away a mobile ATM. It reminded me rather of a portable toilet, except that it was full of money. But the bit I enjoyed most was the name of the company doing the removal. In South Africa, Loots is an Afrikaans surname, but I thought the anglicised version was very apt for the job!

In the garage, He Who Can Fix Anything has a very handy hydraulic crane which lifts up to 2 tons and I can tell you it is worth its weight in gold. After the invention of the wheel, the invention of the hydraulic crane must be the second most useful invention to man. It lifts engines out of cars, puts them back, manoeuvres (yes, I can spell it) everything that is too heavy to lift and generally enables middle aged people to accomplish miracles without pulling a muscle. My job is to pump the handle to do the lifting and then release the air pressure to lower the (usually) gearbox or engine back into the car. This is very critical. A millimetre too far increases the speed of lowering and HWCFA ensures that he is safely out of the way when I am at the controls!

I sometimes think I must have been a man in a previous life!

Indigenous beauties

The verges of the roads in Kommetjie are abundantly utilised as garden extensions. Rather than scrappy patches of grass and weeds, the residents take pride in outdoing each other by way of horticultural excellence. Indigenous species are favoured - not necessarily through a sense of ecological conscience, but because our indigenous flora needs little attention and is quite spectacular. Banks of scarlet and orange aloes, interspersed with a dash of yellow, form a natural deterrent against unwanted visitors (I don't mean mothers-in-law) and flourish against the warmth of an otherwise ugly concrete wall.

But at this time of year, my favourite flower, the pincushion, provides a spectacular show as we move from winter into spring. These are on the pavement near my house, and although the sun had almost set and no longer shone on them, their colours are true to life. Nature at its most perfect.

For years we had a large orange pincushion at our gate and every year, when the flowers had gone to seed (about November), the baboons would arrive and strip the remaining heads from the bush. There must have been something in the dead heads that appealed to them. One year, a particularly large baboon perched precariously on the very top of the bush and inevitably split the trunk. Pincushions aren't fond of mishandling, and in a very short time, the entire bush had died. I was livid, but the baboon didn't care. He no doubt found somewhere else to perch. Since then I have left it to others to grow proteas and pincushions and have confined my attempts at an indigenous garden to the showy leucadendrons, which have so far had no visit from our furry friends.

Food, glorious food

What a week it has been! So many people to see and so many meals to share, ranging from breakfast to dinner – five times in a week. Quite something for someone who is supposed to watch her eating regimen rather strictly. While I freely admit that I am not going to suffer major repercussions from my deviations, I will have to take myself in hand soon otherwise old habits will creep back. I have to say that the pleasure derived from the company of those who led me astray down the path of delectable delights far exceeded any side effects.

On the subject of eating, last Friday, He Who Can Fix Anything had a routine blood sugar test and it was 19.5. The pharmacy sent him straight to the doctor with a red flag waving, informing him that he was dangerously close to diabetic. Another blood test showed it to be 12.5 about 6 hours later. He was immediately told to go on the (I’m not going to advertise it here) diet currently so fashionable and of course I was thrilled because I follow a diabetic diet for other reasons and it would be nice to only cook one type of food.

I immediately packed up all the sweets, sugar, puddings, cooldrinks, jams, biscuits, bread, potatoes, chicken pies and anything else that contained carbs, and handed the gardener a week’s supply of food. Off to the shops I went and filled my fridge with every conceivable leafy green and salad ingredient, and a health-food weekend ensued. By Monday, he was pining for pudding and the odd Kit-Kat, and decided to go back to the pharmacy to have another test. This time it was 8!

It turns out that on the Friday before he had the test, he had just eaten a sandwich, a naartjie and a banana. Well obviously his blood sugar would have spiked! So with glee he phoned me to say I could make apple crumble and custard for pudding (lucky me). Admittedly, he has cut down on the chocolate and cooldrinks, so it can only benefit him, but it seems as though my days of making puddings are not yet over.

Good times with the Giggling Gourmet!

Drawn like moths to a flame – that is where the simile ends when we are talking about Jenny Morris (aka the Giggling Gourmet). She has a powerful attraction that draws people to her, but rather than suffering an untimely end, one is left feeling inspired and motivated to be the very best one can be.

This infectiously gregarious, talented and extremely authentic woman gathered us into the hospitable bosom of her Cooks Playground for an evening of memorable music and fabulous (you could write a story about it) food.

It all started with a very late night session on social media where songs were shared and the repartee sparkled and soon an invitation was extended for a gathering of close strangers. With a mutual shout of ‘All for one and one for all!’ we thus found ourselves enjoying each other’s company as we danced, sang and ate ourselves into a satisfied stupor.

And did we laugh! We provided the entertainment for the hostess which she skilfully sidestepped and left some participants bemused and bashful and the rest of us paralytic with laughter.

We left feeling as though we had spent an evening with a dear friend who had been delighted by our company. What a special gift so generously shared!

Uttering mutters

The air is a-rumble with the throbbing of engines. A fleet of purse seiners is sweeping the sea of a shoal of red-eye, a bait fish which attracts the larger species that we like to feed on. The boats have been trawling the bay since late afternoon and are now providing a spectacular light show as they circle the catch. Sea conditions are perfect, as they have been for days now, with no swell or breakers.

As I stand on the balcony, the bats from my belfry are divebombing all around me, hopefully gorging themselves on the mosquitoes which are breeding in their hundreds in a little dinghy at the side of the house. It filled up with water in the last rains (yes, there was a lot of rain) and because we seldom go to that side of the building, I forgot to a) tip the water out or b) sprinkle a little paraffin in the water. I've done that with the well and the fish pond (no fish in the pond) and it's cut down the mosquito population considerably. However, the bats also need food, so maybe it's a good thing to leave a pond for them to breed in.

The heavy rains have brought the garden to life and everything is shooting out fresh green leaves and twigs are almost growing as you watch them. The clivias are budding and soon will provide a magnificent splash of orange under the shade of the coprosmas. These trees are now 15 to 20 years old and reaching the end of their life. One died completely this winter, but a vigorous deciduous creeper has formed an umbrella over the bare branches and once its new leaves appear, it will be a perfect replacement, providing sun in the summer and shade in the winter.  A bougainvillea and jasmine have similarly wound their way among the branches of another tree which is rapidly losing its foliage, and it will provide a marvellous support for these flowering climbers as they jockey for position.

And so to bed, my mutterings uttered...

Busy Biggles and Manic Mango

I thought Mango and Biggles had passed from kittenhood to cathood, as they seemed to have stopped their night-time careering around the house, sliding on the rugs and generally causing chaos. But it must have just been the warmer weather that made them laid back and relaxed. A little rain has rejuvenated them and they are at it again in full force. Only now they are just a little bigger than a few weeks ago and becoming a force to be reckoned with.

They run through my legs as I walk, seeming to want to be everywhere I am, and they get regularly punted into the air by an unintentional kick, which appears to do them no harm even though I feel like a kitty basher. They have at least given up lying on the computer keyboard when I am working and are content to amuse themselves with sliding all my papers onto the floor instead.

Biggles thinking the pigeons can't see him!

Tonight they are playing tag and it is abundantly clear that these two siblings were just meant to stay together. I can't imagine what they would be doing without each other to play with, fight with (there is currently quite a serious bit of wrestling going on, with accompanying kitty growls) and cuddle up with. They are such a joy in this household. Even HWCFA is very attached to them and likes to have them close by, even reprimanding the love of his life (Monty) for snapping at Biggles.

I read that cats sleep for 17 to 20 hours out of every 24, but I think these two don't fit in with the statistics. The trick we are still trying to perfect is to get those sleeping hours to at least overlap with ours!

Yet another great day

Rumour has it that tomorrow it may rain in Cape Town. If it doesn't, I will have to water the garden. Everything is lying flat on the ground after a week without rain. How quickly we acclimatise to good weather - it is almost unthinkable that spring is not here to stay, despite the liberal sprinkling of daisies already adorning the banks and braes of Kommetjie. Hardly any need to go to Namaqualand for quantity, although colour is the thing.

Another lovely day, spent with old friends and generally drifting without time limits from shop to shop picking up all those little sundries that don't form part of the usual shopping list. Of course, the old friends part was the best, and thank you for that! Safe flying and happy landings - hope the rain has stopped in the UK and the forecast 38 degrees awaits!

I'll be going to Namaqualand to see the famous flowers for myself soon. I have never been in all my 58 years and in fact the last time I took the road to Namibia was on a fabulous trip in 1969. Most of you weren't born then. I'm sure a few roadside farmstalls have sprung up since then, which will relieve the monotony of the long drive. The flowers will be facing north so we'll see nothing on the way up and everything on the way back. A few days at lodgings in the midst of the flower fields sounds like a wonderful way of recharging the batteries and watching the sun set on a different landscape.

You can be sure there will be some stories to tell and lots of photos. I've already packed.

Just taking it in

Sick of superlatives? Peeved with poetic prose? Vexed by verse? Well, the good news is, you don't need any of this to fully appreciate the natural beauty around you. By simply using any one or all of your senses, your soul will absorb the benefit of your attention to something and your thoughts can wander at random. The only important thing is to have actually noticed that something. It's not necessary to know the name of a bird or a flower or even a type of cloud. Your enjoyment is in no way less than that of the person who can give you a whole story about its breeding habits, pollination methods or whether it will rain. In fact it may even be better, because you are appreciating it for what it is, not what you know about it.

I stood outside on the deck last night under a full moon. From a distance came the chorus of a thousand frogs in the wetlands. Night birds called out as they left their roosts and swept by on silent wings. A crack rent the air as a wave broke on the rocky shoreline of the bay. Somewhere a dog barked. And overhead only the brightest stars glittered, their myriad companions dimmed by the light of the supermoon.

Peace fell upon me.

A great Women's Day!

What a great Women's Day it has been! I met up with an old friend who I haven't really had a conversation with for about 20 years and we picked up where we left off as if no time had passed in between. All day, people from the past appeared, delightful women who it seems a shame I have not stayed in contact with over the years, and yet there is no reason for regret as, once again, a level of comfortable friendship was never lost. Even though there wasn't an opportunity to chat to everyone, there was still the feeling of kindred spirits gathering to celebrate life. A lot of water has flowed under our bridges since we last met, but everyone has survived and mostly prospered, if not materially, at least spiritually.

A day of music, good food, gentle imbibement and sisterhood was enjoyed under a bright blue sky, with just an occasional breeze to remind us that we are not quite finished with winter yet. Nature conspired to provide the perfect setting under the old milkwood trees overlooking the sea and only the sunset called an end to the celebration. I believe it is continuing at an indoor venue, but my participation is no longer called for - my idea of the perfect end to a perfect day is to sit on my deck and enjoy the changing colours of the sky, sea and mountains as darkness falls, so that's where I'll be.

Kicking my shoes off

And so the world continues to turn, with the sun sinking from view at the end of another perfect day in Kommetjie. It started early, with the rooster clearing his throat at 5am, then falling silent for another hour, leaving me as awake as I had been since 2am. One of those nights where the moon seemed to shine too brightly and it seemed wrong to be asleep with so many diamonds sparkling overhead. At 6am we heard the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer, some three kilometres away on the other side of the mountain, indicating the wind direction and a particular clarity in the air, although I'm sure the loudspeakers on the mosque contributed.

The International Space Station zoomed overhead at 7am, always an exciting event for those of us who still go outside to watch aeroplanes go overhead (i.e. me). It takes about 6 minutes for it to cross the sky or rather, that is the length of time the sun shines on it before it disappears into the shadow of the earth again.

The air was balmy, and today I shed my shoes and walked barefoot in the garden - can't wait for summer when shoes will be only for going out. All the youngsters were in t-shirts and shorts and headed for Long Beach, where the first day of a surfing competition was to be held. I don't think the sea has been as flat as this for months. It would be no exaggeration to say that the shore break must have been all of three inches. If there was any surfing it would have had to be in the wake of a speedboat. A shark was sighted there yesterday, so perhaps there was a reason for the calm seas.

I was going to post an arty picture of a hadedah silhouetted on a rooftop with the glowing orange sky as a backdrop, but as I clicked the bird flew away and a picture of a roof somehow doesn't hold the same aesthetic attraction, so you will just have to imagine the magnificence of the sunset. Any of the pictures on this blog will do!

Handbook for the Huntress

I consider it incumbent upon me to introduce those about to embark on, or contemplating all over again, the search for 'an ideal husband' to a book written by someone whose own experience appears to have the hallmark of success in that field.

Although a disclaimer in the front of the book states that it is not intended to take the place of professional advice, Ms Hurry is certainly qualified by experience to give tips and guidance, and the fact that she is a renowned and highly accomplished journalist and writer adds grist to the mill.

The advice is all completely appropriate, sensible and downright hilarious, and is likely to cause laugh-out-loud moments which make other patrons of the coffee shop where you are enjoying a little 'me time', stare in envy at such joyous abandon. I would go so far as to say that every mother should encourage her daughters to study this book (which is a convenient handbag size and can be referred to at a moment's notice). Indeed, many an unfortunate liaison can be avoided completely by knowing what signs to look for before settling for something less than the best the species has to offer.

For a highly entertaining read, and some valuable life lessons you can learn from your armchair, I can recommend no better than Handbook for the Huntress by Caroline Hurry, available online at: www.hurry.co.za