Twilight - the violet hour

Twilight - the violet hour, no better represented than in this photo of this evening's sky, when the silhouetted branches and bank of clouds are at their starkest, and the colours of sunset are a gentle gradation from yellow to violet. Zooming in on this photo will show the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter. Venus is on our side of the sun and Jupiter, which is twelve times larger than Venus, is twelve times further away from us, on the other side of the sun. Nothing has been said of their positions tomorrow, so perhaps they will just move gradually apart again.
Twilight is a lovely time of day - the birds are giving their final twitters and chirps as they settle into their roosting places for the night. The bats come out to catch bugs in what seems a random zigzagging across the backdrop of the last light. Cats start the night's prowl. It is a time when our eyes adjust to the darkness (if we are fortunate enough to be away from all forms of artificial light) and enable us to see our way by starlight or moonlight. It's amazing what can actually be seen, as demonstrated when loadshedding is in place. Quite a pleasant situation if you are prepared for it. Reconnecting with nature.

Cutting back the aliens

The rasping, raucous sound of chainsaws rends the air. The huge willow-like tree next door is being cut down, having grown from a sapling to the height of a double storey and as wide, with a trunk a metre across at the base within about 10 years. The long, thin leaves fall all year round, providing a thick layer of mulch over my vegetable patch and surrounding garden area, but not the sort I want as it doesn't seem to have much capacity for decomposition and merely serves as a source of extra raking.
The reason for its rapid growth and vast size is because its roots are firmly in the underground reservoir some 8 feet down that exists in the back corner of my garden, where we sank wellpoints to take advantage of free water some years back. I can only imagine that without this tree sucking the water up the water table will be considerably higher and allow for extended watering capabilities on my side and lush growth in the garden. Perhaps the vegetables will attain maximum size due to the increased sunlight as well.
If I could get rid of the two incredibly invasive Brazilian peppers that grow on my side, a whole new garden could be created, and let natural light into the neighbour's house for the first time ever. But HWCFA has fixed views about cutting down trees, no matter how alien, and whines like a stuck pig if I get over-enthusiastic with pruning. I think I should just put in an ecoplug and the deed will be done!

The winter garden

Despite it being winter, there is plenty of interest in the garden and new growth in the most unusual places. It seems that the late onset of cooler weather has confused some of the plants and they are having a second flowering, or have just not stopped flowering at all. It's been a wonderful year for the bromeliads, particularly the varieties that have performed poorly in the last few years. It's either because I fed the whole garden lavishly last spring and they got such a shock at having food that they are showing their excitement with extra large inflorescences, or it's a natural cycle. Whatever the cause, I have again bounce-backed the garden pending a winter shower or two and will hope for another good year.

Bromeliad

Your guess is as good as mine

Hebe

Polygala

Hibiscus buds are as attractive as the flower

Primula

 

Dipladenia never stops flowering

Pretty flowers of the rosemary bush

Strelitzia

Bottlebrush

 The clivias produce so many seeds, in addition to propaogating themselves via their root system, that I have decided to cultivate them in little bags for sale in a few years' time as established plants, rather than letting them fall to the ground and creating congestion among the clivias. Who knows what this could lead to?

A good day out

Had a bit of a day off today, with some essential me time (all people need this - it's not self-indulgent). It involved a delicious lunch of sushi at my favourite Waterfront eaterie, where we sat at the counter watching the chefs preparing the food (under a critical eye of my companion, the inimitable Giggling Gourmet). Procedure passed muster - despite a small incident when kitchen staff dropped a stack of cleaned plates on the floor nearby, which will probably take care of a week's wages for the poor man - and every mouthful of those tempura prawns was savoured with much mastication. The strongest cappuccino I have ever had set our hearts racing as we set off for our favourite pastime - a Chinese foot rub.

This must surely be a form of Chinese torture. I have had a few now, but today's required dogged determination and much face pulling to withstand the pressure and pain as the tiniest young woman proved that you don't need brawn to have hands of steel. I didn't know I was such a knot of tension until she dug her fingers deep into my shoulders and found rock-hard knobs of muscle that she literally ironed away over the course of the treatment. An hour of yanking, twisting, pummelling and kneading left me feeling like softened butter, all warm and pliable. I think if you can remember to breathe and relax your muscles while under attack, it might be a little less harrowing, and is definitely not for those with a low pain threshold, but there is no doubt that the healing properties of the massage last for days, and if undertaken regularly will become painless once the underlying causes are resolved.
I'll be back soon to test this theory.

A brief word in your ear

Amidst the doom and gloom that currently prevails in the world, with the common man having given up the power to decide for himself to a handful of people who are, almost without exception globally, morally and ethically unfit to wield any form of power (not to mention that they are all in truth public servants and should be doing it for free), we should not forget that the majority of the populace remain peace-loving, caring and empathic people, with the capacity to take back the power and redistribute it in a new way between members of communities, for the communities, if they will just dare to think for themselves.
Those who currently run our world rely on fear to divide and rule. If everyone changed their thoughts and saw the world through eyes of love (a much-misused and misinterpreted word), the power (another much-misused and misinterpreted word) would return to the people. The power to become a better example of humanity, not the power to subjugate and destroy.
Think on these things.

Contrasts

The approach of a cold front always provides opportunities for spectacular photographs, no matter how insignificant the equipment or inept the photographer. The vast expanse of sky provides room for vast cloud formations and our situation on a tiny promontory at the south-western tip of a continent exposes us to some fairly extreme weather.

But within hours, the blue sky returns, the odd black cloud moves in from the south west and dumps a bucketload of water on the thirsty land, and sweeps inland to make way for more blue sky. The fresh beauty of rainwashed vegetation surrounds us, with birdlife relishing an invigorating shower.

Despite man's ongoing pollution of the air, nature determinedly fights back and returns the debris to the earth, to be disgorged into the oceans in an endless recycling of the elements.

Obsolescence, not expiry

Cupboard clearing continues. Despite a thorough clearout some weeks ago, a second going over has revealed that many items haven't been looked at in years and will certainly not be used in the future. And so another shelf or three has become available. This is only the tip of the iceberg, as it is a general storage cupboard. There is still a long way to go - linen cupboard, clothes cupboard, kitchen utensil cupboard and a vast collection of video cassettes of the F1 Grand Prix and 500cc bike racing from the 80s. We have the race in which Ayrton Senna died, Wayne Gardener's incredihle performances on Philip Island, daredevil riding by Dunlop, Hislop, Fogarty at the Isle of Man TTs. Somehow it would be like throwing out those achievements if we chucked them, but will we ever look at them again? We still have the video machine.
An expensive state-of-the-art video camera lies unused (the screen has snuffed it) and any video we want to take can be done with our little cell phones, with apparently the same or even better clarity. An old TV, as deep as it is wide, works perfectly, but has been replaced with flat screen technology.
This is the age of consumerism, where technology outpaces the life of the products, and marketing teams work round the clock to sell the latest goods before the next generation arrives on the shelves. Obsolescence is the order of the day, not expiry.
Will everything end up on a vast, Everest-like tip of technological trade-ins?

Winter storms still to come

How easily we are fooled by a clear sky and sunshine! It is definitely winter now and we have to remember that extra jersey or jacket when venturing out for a walk along the seafront or coffee up the road. The air is icy as it sweeps in from the south Atlantic, and the weather forecasts (which are surely accurate in some part of the world, although not necessarily the desired location) are as frequently incorrect as correct. It really is best to just wait for the sun to come up, look at the weather vane on top of the lighthouse, and assess the surface of the sea for what lies ahead!
This last weekend was, for me, the epitome of Cape Town weather, and if anyone visited here I am sure they would have been hard pressed to leave. Fortunately, bad weather intermittently spoils paradise, otherwise we would have a shoreline of apartment buildings similar to the Costa del Sol. We never know what winter will bring, and it has been some years since the Cape of Storms took a really bad knock. The odd thing about these storms is that they always seem to occur when the highest tide is in the early hours of the morning, and so we miss all the action and are left only to gasp at the destruction the next day.
Living only about 60 metres from the shoreline, I often wonder how long it will be before the sea laps at our walls.The tide has washed seaweed along the side road once before, many years ago, and the storm surge is held back by a low jumble of rocks, a hillock and a line of milkwoods.
Only time will tell.

No chip on the shoulder

Watching Dumb & Dumber with Jim Carey, my son pointed out that Jim's chipped front tooth was real and not a film prop. I had a closer look and sure enough, he had exactly the same chip in his tooth that I had when I was a child.
At the age of 8, I was running through the garden along an uneven path winding its way up the mountain slope and, as I still do, tripped on a step. I knocked my face on the ground, chipping my recently emerged permanent tooth. The resultant gap enabled me to suck through a straw with my teeth clenched!
In those days, there was no easy fix and besides, it didn't bother me. Nobody teased me and I have no recollection of any memories associated with it. I certainly didn't regard it as unusual, although I have to say that such 'injuries' were normally attributed to boys. I went through my entire schooldays and teenage years with that chipped tooth, and remain completely unscarred by the experience. When I had it fixed at the age of 18 (presumably because I was starting work, or technology had become available), nobody noticed. I have asked various schoolfriends if they remember it, but they don't.
I can't imagine that in this day and age, where children are constantly bombarded by false ideas of reality regarding a person's appearance and the need for cosmetic surgery to correct the most minor of imperfections, I would have got off so lightly.
I think that one of the things I enjoy so much about the British TV programmes and movies is that nobody has had their teeth fixed, or wrinkles smoothed or noses straightened. They are real faces, like you would see in your own mirror.
Hollywood has caused untold emotional damage to millions, not to mention cash-strapped parents struggling to make their kids' teeth line up to match everyone else's.
I think teeth are part of one's personality. Or perhaps my chip just made me more aware that we should all be ourselves, not what we think someone wants us to be?

Organised chaos

I've never aspired to being a neat person. Organised chaos is what I thrive on. My desk is a jumble of papers, books, notebooks and pens, with the odd flash drive peeking out for use at a moment's notice. A pride of lions watches me at work, a reminder of a wonderful holiday in the Drakensberg too long ago to pinpoint but within a decade, and a little Peter Rabbit from a visit to England since then. The lions are piled haphazardly on a chair back, while Peter Rabbit observes from the top of Chambers 21st Century Dictionary.
Mother's diary of a trip to Italy lies among the papers, waiting to be turned into another travelogue, with the aid of the pictures I took, and a new journal awaits the scribblings of the trip to come. These blogs are my practice for larger works, and a form of discipline in gathering thoughts at least once a day, rather than gazing aimlessly out to sea or across the bay towards Table Mountain. Actually, those times are not aimless, but rather a time of emptying the mind to allow new ideas to enter. After all, constant thinking is a form of clutter, and without de-cluttering, one cannot move forward.
That being said, de-cluttering my desk is never a good idea. Within a day of doing so, I will find a use for the magazine discarded, or need to refresh my thoughts jotted down on the back of a shopping list consigned to the bin. So for the moment, a little organised chaos will do.

Wild and windy in the sunshine

Another wonderfully wild and windy day here in Kommetjie. Intermittent showers have lashed the Cape with a promise of snow inland, but although the palm trees are battered and the view towards Table Mountain is of dense, dark cloud of the hailstorm variety, I have to confess that the sun has shone brilliantly most of the day in our little village and the only evidence of bad weather is the storm surge coming in with the high tide. The swells are gigantic out to sea, as is evidenced by the photos - those are not ships on the horizon - and the sea birds are loving skimming along the face of the waves. Kite surfers have been doing likewise, and I can only imagine how exhilarating it must be to hurtle along the surface at such speed.

 

Blustery day

Had a wonderful walk to the lighthouse in the blustery wind. A wintry, slate-grey sea, tinged with green and occasional sparkling patches of sunlight breaking through low cloud, was soothing on the eyes - a pleasant change from the dazzling glare of summer - and another reason for preferring winter walks along the seafront.
Cormorants, terns and gulls clung low against the bouldered slope to ease the homeward flight, swooshing past at eye level, too quick for a photo. A few breakers thundered across the rocky ledge below the lighthouse, a calmer sea than yesterday but no less impressive. A couple of surfers rode the lesser waves across the bay, choosing discretion over valour.

Tomorrow is set for rain, so for me it's going to be a good book!

That old shirt

We all have a favourite item of clothing, don't we? I know I do, and nothing brings that home more than looking through photographs and seeing that I am wearing my favourite purple shirt in nearly every one! Whether at home or abroad, the faithful purple shirt appears, rather like the garden gnome that Amelie photographed to give the impression that she was travelling the world. At least I don't look like the garden gnome! The sad part is that the shirt is fading and will one day be a pale purple consigned to the 'clothes only suitable for gardening' pile.
In winter, people will be forgiven for thinking that I only have one long-sleeved top, as I wear it as the basis for every outfit, but I do have four of them and so have the opportunity to wear a new one every day. The accessory depends on the destination, although I find that anything too smart raises eyebrows, living in this casual little village by the sea, and so those clothes lie untouched in the wardrobe.
I long to wear long, flowing, colourful dresses, but my children have voiced horror at the thought of such attire on their mother and so I must bow to their better judgment. I have often thought I would look quite becoming in a sari, but that would obviously be totally inappropriate and attract more than one skew look at the mall, where the favoured mode is baggy tracksuit pants and a cheap t-shirt.
So for the moment it will have to be jeans and jerseys, but come summer, who knows?

Sungazing

May was the season of sunsets, with spectacular light shows every evening to cast a glow upon the mountains of the Peninsula and soothe our souls before the long dark nights of winter - compliments of Eskom and loadshedding! We are now only 9 days from mid-winter, the solstice, after which the sun will drift south again and the days will become longer. Here at the tip of Africa, our winters are in fact very mild compared to inland, where temperatures regularly drop to freezing and below, while we seldom get down to 8 degrees at night. Another great reason to live in Cape Town, but don't let on, it's becoming quite crowded here.
At this time of year, the sun sinks directly into the sea in the tiny gap in between the house and tree that you are no doubt rather familiar with by now. Bush fires and smog have caused sufficient haze to watch the sun for some time with the naked eye as it sets and this has allowed me to capture some striking sunsets while indulging in some sungazing.

The perfection of nature

Been having fun with my 'real' camera. I use it for close ups in the main, because I can't seem to get the settings right for general photos, so use my tablet and phone for those. I particularly love taking pics of flowers - I think because they are very forgiving - they don't fly away or scuttle into the undergrowth! Succulents are among my favourite plants, with their many shapes and colours, always arranged geometrically perfectly according to the laws of nature, and because they suddenly burst into bloom when least expected. Some of these have leaves that are only 2mm across.

Silver birds

The skies over Kommetjie have been literally abuzz with aircraft lately, probably taking advantage of the perfect weather to get in some practice hours. I have never lost the enthusiasm for rushing outside at the sound of a plane going over and gazing up until it has disappeared from sight. I suppose it is an inner yearning for travel and to see the world.
There are a few people from Kommetjie that I know of who fly small planes, and doubtless the pair that flew over in close formation a day or two ago had come to waggle their wings for the family. They were so low I thought the palm trees were at risk (exaggeration for effect), and the engine of the one behind sounded a little unhealthy - certainly not what I would hope for if I was in it! Not long after, the regular gyrocopter went by, also very low and soon there were photos on Facebook for us to enjoy, or not, in the case of raw sewage spilling out into our seas.
A funny sight was a little plane towing an advertising banner - we don't see much of that any more, as I should imagine it's very expensive although the reach is good! It didn't come close enough to read, but I like to think it was a message such as "Marry me, Mary" or something similar!
I try to take photos of these aerial visitors, but invariably by the time I have hit all the buttons to set up the camera or phone, the plane is long gone. I received plenty of good natured jeering for my recent photo of a large gum tree with a Dakota hidden from view behind it, and nothing goes slower than a Dakota!
It is time for me to travel again, and I will be heading to the airport in July, not to fetch or drop someone, but to climb into that silver bird once more and wing my way to Europe for a brief summer! I can't wait!

Fish cakes to feed an army

Outside on the deck in a summer shirt admiring the stars and Venus and Jupiter which are getting closer and closer, asterismically speaking. Another wonderful winter's day with bright sunshine, warm wind and smooth seas for the little skiboats catching snoek (a type of barracuda). A few thunderclouds gathered earlier but have dissipated - if there is any rain, it will arrive in the night.
I was given a snoek on Sunday - not my favourite fish, and particularly when it is presented whole and uncleaned as the sun is going down - but He Who Can Fix Anything had to step into the breach as I am not proficient in 'vlekking' a snoek (a way of butterflying the fish). It was then consigned to the fridge, and the roe and livers quickly fried in butter and eaten on toast. (Not for me!)
The fish weighed about 5 kilos so had plenty of meat, but I only enjoy smoked snoek and that is a real mission to prepare, so I decided to make fish cakes - a cunning way to deal with a rather tough fish, as I blitzed it in the food processor with all the requisite goodies to make it tasty. The resultant twenty-five large fish cakes were then shallow-fried to a golden perfection and have been steadily diminishing over the last two days. It's quite difficult to eat so many without having to freeze them, and they are packed with protein and very little potato, so a solid meal can be had with just two. A hot sweet chilli sauce is perfect for spreading on them and giving them a bit of kick.
To compare them with a commercial fish cake is to realise how little fish they actually use, and homemade is completely foolproof - you cannot make a failed fish cake. It's just very time-consuming, but definitely worth it!

A little peace

Ah! Loadshedding! I wonder whether Eskom realises what a gift we have been given through the incompetence of its incumbents? An opportunity to shed the load of mankind’s technology and commune once more with nature as it was intended. A respite from the incessant buzz of daily life and a chance to listen to the voice of the wind, soughing through the boughs of the trees, the night birds calling shrilly down at the shore, the silent stars moving in an eternal dance across the canopy of the night, only the planets shifting position in the firmament as they spin around the star that gives us life.

Our senses seem to heighten in the darkness to compensate for our dimmed vision, and we can hear the silence as peace settles across the land. Only the rhythmic flashing of the lighthouse beam on the treetops as its beacon lights the way for seafarers disturbs the darkness. Inside, a single candle flame illuminates the house, mocking the light bulbs that hang useless from their wires, dependent on man’s technology to provide day by night.

And suddenly the light returns and the spell is broken.

Read the labels!

As a fairly recently conscious consumer, I am daily horrified by the ingredients I read on the labels of the food we buy in our supermarkets. The latest discovery is bleach in sausage. It's bad enough that our toilet paper, tissues and roller towels are bleached (do we really need everything white?), but to find it in your sausage is enough to banish them from your braai! On the paper note, have you smelled the roller towels that we are supposed to use for soaking up excess oil from fried foods (another no no, but it's still a long road)? Would you want to eat that?
The thing that really peeves is that there doesn't appear to be an alternative, unbleached product, without chemicals. Or that it isn't labelled as smelling gross. We are not given the choice to live the way we want to. Practically everything we put on our food in the way of sauces has genetically modified products such as maize and soy added to it. The fresh food we eat has sometimes been sprayed with pesticides without our general knowledge, so that even this is not what we think it is.
If you try to eat only free range meats and eggs, chances are the animal or fowl has been fed on genetically modified grains, as our government appears to be enamoured of such a policy, despite the rest of the world becoming more and more vociferous against it.
Of great sadness is the sight of shopping trollies filled with non-foods such as processed cereals, chips, pies, sweetened dairy products, cat and dog food with rainbow colours - and not a piece of fruit or bunch of carrots to provide some nutrition - being pushed by women with small children already showing signs of the weight problems that will be the precursor to ill health later in life.
While I appreciate that my point of view regarding nutrition and health need not be adopted by anyone else on the planet, surely it doesn't make sense that we should accept the poisons that are being dished up to us?

Glad to be me

I’m glad to be me.

Glad that I can sit on my balcony in the brilliant winter sunshine, looking out over the sea at the flotilla of little boats catching fish, seabirds waiting patiently nearby for the chance to snatch at a scrap; watching puffy white clouds scudding imperceptibly across the pale blue sky, casting shadows on the rugged mountains below.

Glad that I live in this little village, quite far from the madding crowd and the noise that accompanies city life, in a little wooden house that is warm in winter and cool in summer, with a garden filled with birds, insects, amphibians, the odd reptile, occasional porcupine or baboon.

Glad that I am able to give a home to two dogs and two cats, so that they may live in shelter with all the necessities to give them a comfortable life; in return they give devoted companionship and a caring presence.

Glad that I am surrounded by people who give me the opportunity to demonstrate who I really am in every way and have provided the means for me to give and receive of the things that are important in life.

Glad that I am aware that life is all about choice and responsibility and that I always have the ability to change everything in an instant simply by taking a different road forward.

Glad to be accepting of everything that has happened throughout my life, with the knowledge of why.

Glad to understand that happiness comes from within.

Glad to know joy in my heart.

Glad to be me.

Before the dawn

It's a perfect June day in Cape Town. The sun is still safely tucked away below the eastern horizon as the night sky turns from black to indigo to violet as dawn progresses. High in the west, the waning moon still casts shadows in the garden, and somewhere a frog is calling in the damp undergrowth. A sunbird chatters in the treetops, always greeting the sun long before it appears.
The heavy seas of the past week have settled to a gentle roll of breakers across the bay, the kelp lying in tangled glossy heaps along the rocks where it was tossed in the storm. Seabirds are back at the shoreline pecking at the sea lice and mussels that are once more accessible in even tides.
Hadedahs shout as they straggle across the lightening sky, making an early start to their day. Their more elegant cousins, the sacred ibis,will follow shortly in swishing v-formations, sometimes with a glossy ibis or two joining them and upsetting the colour scheme.

No breeze disturbs the leaves of the trees and the palm trees stand straight and tall, framing the back table of Table Mountain as if planted specially for that purpose.
The next few weeks will be the time to be in Cape Town if you want to see her at her best.

Weird and wild winds

A strong southeaster to usher in June! With a full moon coming up tomorrow, we can expect some spectacular breaks over the harbour wall at Kalk Bay and a few windows smashed in by the sea at the restaurants that always fall victim to this weather! Doubtless the intrepid photographers who are out there day and night will keep us up to date.
On this side of the Peninsula, the wind has slightly flattened the sea but thrown up magnificent sprays of wild horses' manes at the reefs - all very spectacular, but one can't spend all day admiring the view, unfortunately. The approach of a severe cold front has brought high cloud, while the bottom wind is from the south east, chasing dragons up the valley and over the crest of Chapman's Peak. These two weather systems have created a wonderful cloud effect (appreciated by me, a cloud lover) and at sunset the pale pink and blue was perfectly offset by the contrasting greys.

Tonight is the perfect night for oxtail stew, and I won't be posting a photo of it, because it's absolutely the best, most tender and moistly delicious oxtail stew I have ever made, and I don't want you to feel jealous!