Looking forward to 2019

I thought 2018 was not a bad year. I hiked in the beautiful mountains of the Cape Peninsula, survived another year, sorted out years of stress by knuckling down and getting on with the work that needed to be done, and I met many new and interesting people, as well as reconnecting with old friends. There were many special moments of great happiness. The year also brought me many valuable life lessons. If you want to know what they are, ask me. If you don't, that's okay.

I find the number 2019 pleasing to the eye and can only think that is a good sign of things to come. Not necessarily for everyone, as each person's perception of the world is aligned to their expectations, but for myself I am expecting only the best to turn up. The door has closed on 2018 and I have let go of the handle.

To those who didn't disappoint me, thank you for your important role in my life. For those who did, yours was the greatest lesson of all. I can only hope you found some value in the experience too.

In 2019, I will continue to explore life, fortunately with the aid of an air ticket, and remain true to myself, as ever. Anyone who wants to join me is most welcome. May all your wishes come true, so be careful what you wish for!

The Silvermine valley - a reminiscence

Almost 50 years have spanned the interval between my last visit to the Silvermine valley and the hikes I have done in the last year with the walking group. We used to go there as teenagers when it was the Sunbird Nature Reserve.  Our 'crowd' of kids from Clovelly would walk across the valley from the Fish Hoek side along the track which ran behind Clovelly Country Club to Noordhoek and spend the day at Sunbird. There was a swimming pool fed by the Silvermine River and horses to ride if you were brave enough, but I think the main attraction, for the girls anyway, was the company of the handsome young rangers who looked after the reserve. They lived in old-fashioned gypsy caravans among huge old gum trees. It was their private paradise and we were privileged to join them.

As I write this, the Hollies' hit song of that long ago summer, He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother, is on the radio It brings back those memories so vividly that I can feel the sun on our backs as we walk down that track, hear the crunch of the gravel beneath our feet, smell the warm coats of the horses grazing in the field, see the cold clear water of the pristine Silvermine River gushing down the valley in eddying pools and tinkling falls. A detour into the farm fields to pull up a few carrots for the horses was part of the journey.
 
Today the caravans are gone, the trees burned down by wildfires, the horses are grazing in the Elysian fields  and the swimming pool has been reclaimed by the river. The valley is part of Table Mountain National Park and the public may freely roam across the grassy meadows along the riverbanks.

But I think I preferred it when it was 'ours'. 

Christmas past

Another Christmas has come and gone. The carol services, shopping, Christmas trees and decorations, present wrapping and unwrapping, brightly lit homes and gardens and frantic rush to fill the fridge before the shops close for just one day are over. Dinners have been consumed, wrapping paper and containers consigned to the recycling and leftovers are the order of the day for the next few days. It's time to relax a little, go back to simple eating, enjoy the chocolates before the New Year's resolutions kick in and reboot for 2019.

The  next week will be taken up, in households all over the world, with lists of New Year's resolutions. Some will last forever and some will be fleeting, but every day is the beginning of a new year and we can all start again at any time.

The family dynamics have changed now that Mom and Dad are no longer with us and life will never be the same. We are all now Nobody's Child, and without the safe and secure knowledge that there was always a warm and loving welcome when we arrived on their doorstep. It has been difficult to come to terms with this reality - their shoes can never be filled. Perhaps 2019 will be an easier year for us all.

A great philosophy

A quiet start to the day with the words of John Lennon, a man whose wish for humanity was peace and love:

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people living life in peace

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people sharing all the world

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Hotter days ahead

We have just passed the summer solstice here at the foot of Africa, and are now on our way to shorter days. The sun will set later for a week or so but is offset by a later dawn, and then we will gradually begin to notice. However, the next two months can bring blistering heat - not something many of us look forward to after the last two years' damaging droughts. Water restrictions have been relaxed but many of us have got so used to limited usage that we can't think what to use the extra allowance for! We are currently 120 litres per day under our limit. 
Sadly, the water table has not risen and is already at its minimum (certainly under my garden!) and so I fear for the survival of my plants, as the watering of such a large garden from 5-litre bottles is onerous and back-breaking. On the other side of my fence, a spider gum, Port Jackson and other unidentified alien invader are the main suspects in the saga of the low water table, as they are growing as if their roots have hit an aquifer. If it weren't for the fence, I would have been over there with a chainsaw long ago. Regrettably I cannot afford R2 000/metre to sink a borehole through 35 metres of granite into the finest fresh water right below us.
In the meantime, I have been working hard at transforming what is left of the garden into a waterwise, deeply mulched bed of hardy indigenous shrubs and aloes, and this is paying off. What I have realised is that 35 years ago I should have planted a tree in the middle of the lawn, not at the edges of the property! Although it is not exactly Kirstenbosch, it is so far removed from the patch of sandy lawn of a few months ago that the transformation makes it seem so. It is still a constant battle against the mole rat that throws up mountainous mounds and has completely excavated the garden, so much so that I constantly expect to disappear down a hole at any time. For the moment, I appear to have conquered that battle, but don't want to talk too loudly about it, as I suspect that its relatives have had a hand in the recent demise of my favourite pincushion.

Keeping your body toned

Just heard the news I have been waiting for all my life!

The only exercise you need for maximum benefit to your body is three minutes a week, broken up into three 20-second high-energy bursts every second day.

This obviously goes back to the days when we were cavemen. Picture the scene:

You're down by the river, sharp stick in hand, ready to spear a big fish for lunch. Suddenly, a huge prehistoric crocodile bursts out of the water, its cavernous mouth all but engulfing you. Adrenalin kicks in and twenty seconds later you are right at the top of that tree you just had a nap under.

The water settles and you climb down to continue fishing. Snap! There it comes again and you are once more up the tree. After a short rest you go back to the river bank.

Aaarrgghh! This time your 20-second burst takes you up the hill and back to the cave you call home. 

You spend the next day relaxing under a tree to recover and give the croc time to move up-river. The next day you go hunting buck.

This activity keeps you in tip-top condition, which is lucky because it's going to be a long time before you invent the gym.

Under Milkwood

When my children were young, about 3 and 6, we used to have family holidays in Knysna for two weeks in June every year. What fabulous times they were! Granny and Grandpa, my sister and I, her husband and all the grandchildren - we hired the front cottages at Under Milkwood on the Heads, right on the lagoon, It was a private paradise. The cottages back then were very simple, with tiled floors for practicality and no television or microwaves. Almost like luxury camping. We knew the owners so well because we booked the same cottages year after year, and my father's first task when we arrived would be to fix the toaster and the kettle. They really seemed to rely on him for that and it became a bit of a joke.

The weather was always perfect, as it is in the southern Cape in winter and twice a day, the tide would ebb and flow so that there would either be miles of sand exposed for us to walk across to Leisure Isle or wavelets lapping at the promenade in front of the cottages. Paddleskis were available for the energetic and plenty of fun was had pumping prawns for fishing down at the Heads. To get the prawns, you put an empty tin upside down over a prawn hole and push down hard with your foot. A prawn shoots out of another hole (you never know which one) and much hilarity ensues as everyone is splattered with the accompanying projectile of mud! I don't think we ever actually caught a fish. It was such a safe place for the children, ranging in age from 3 to 15, with the adults lounging in the sun outside the cottages while the kids played on the lagoon in front.

No holiday was complete without tea and scones at the Pink Umbrella on Leisure Isle and at least one walk right to the top of the Heads was compulsory every day. If we were lucky, we would spot the Knysna loerie in the canopy of trees, or a school of dolphins passing by on the sea side of the Heads. Walking has always been a feature of our holidays and coming from a family of keen birdwatchers, a lot of standing as well!

I doubt whether we will ever have those days again. The cottages have been upgraded now and a lot of the freedom to just be kids has disappeared along with the old jetty, but the ebb and flow of the tide and those long sunny days on the stoep can never be taken away. It is still a magical place to be.

New clothes at Christmas

Looking at an old home movie of a Christmas in Clovelly, I see myself at the age of about 15 in an outfit consisting of a top with hotpants underneath (about 1973) and can still remember how much I enjoyed wearing it. At least I can show my children that I had a hot figure once! My son looked at the movie and I pointed myself out and said, That's me and he said, It's in colour! Nice.

The outfit was made by my mother, as were all our clothes when we were young. Those were the days when there were no clothing chains for everyday wear and your fancy clothes came from Garlicks or Stuttafords or perhaps even Cleghorns! Jerseys were hand-knitted or crocheted, and we often made our own.

We were guaranteed never to appear in the same dress as anyone else and always had a new outfit for Christmas. I remember favourite dresses with a fondness most people assign to their old Teddy.

Being 3 girls separated by 3 years didn't allow much opportunity for hand-me-downs and anyway, we all had our own colour code - my clothes were pink, red or purple and my sisters' were blue and green. I think it made the laundry easy to sort for Mother, although we probably like to think that we had stamped our mark on our colours in a statement of individuality early in life.

She must have been a very talented seamstress, because I don't remember ever having a wardrobe malfunction. These days, you are lucky to get a shirt home from the shop before the first button falls off.

We all learned to sew and received smart Swiss sewing machines for our 21st birthdays, and have turned out our fair share of successes, but it's been many years since they've been used now and I'm ashamed to say I haven't taught either of my children how to use it. It seems a pity that such basic skills are not being passed on.

All a-twitter

There are so many birds in the garden this morning, I hardly know which way to point the camera! The early morning showers have rejuvenated yesterday's tired leaves and the birds are revelling in the freshness of the drops hanging from every tip. The air is crisp from the influence of the cool onshore drift and mother birds are teaching their young about survival.
A family of Southern Boubous frequents the suet ball on my deck and I have been enjoying their interaction as baby becomes independent. Mother is still close by, and so far the cats have shown no interest. A lucky shot shows the two together in the tree.
Another family of malachite sunbirds is flapping around (a fair description of the way they hang and bounce around randomly in flight), and the youngster is delighting in testing out his/her wings. An odd sight was to see a sparrow and the malachite female fly down and land next to each other on the deck rail. As I write this I can hear a Southern Lesser Double-Collared sunbird trilling excitedly in the hibiscus. This is definitely bird weather - they don't like wind or heat and remain in the shelter of the trees.
Birdwatching and particularly bird photography takes up a huge amount of time, and so reluctantly I must get on with my day and leave them to twitter in the treetops.

You are not alone

Way past the witching hour and wide awake. The early hours of the morning seem to be when the mind is at its busiest, with nothing to distract it from its senseless going over of all the apparent and imaginary stresses of life. We all know that when we wake up in the morning, nothing will have changed and we will wonder why we lay awake, tossing and turning, when the sun still rises and the moon continues to show only one face and the Earth is still turning. All care dissipates like mist before the morning sun, and again we push it from our minds, where it lurks to wake us on another night when we least expect it.

We are not alone in this experience, as social media instantly informs us when our friends are also drinking tea at 3.30am and doing a crossword, or posting on Facebook to their friends on the other side of the world - there is always some advantage to be awake at night.

Tonight the sky is clear and dark, except for the region around the moon, and the constellations - ever constant - serve as a reminder that what we think are insurmountable problems are just moments in time that will come to an end without the dire consequences we imagine. We can look back at many sad, frightening or desperate moments and realise that they are in the past and we survived; we shall survive again and become stronger every time through knowing that this is just life's journey and each experience is to teach us who we are and what our purpose is in this world.

These are general musings on lying awake, senselessly worrying over what in the end is meaningless. I hope it will be of help to someone who needs to know they are not alone.

Cellphone tracking blues

Is it just me or are there millions out there who long for the days when we were uncontactable? While I agree that cellphones serve a vital purpose in situations where you have become separated from your husband while shopping and need to trace him before he gets lost in the hardware department, or you have left your shopping list at home and need to phone for a quick recap, the worst aspect is that everyone expects you to carry it with you at all times. Try going to the bathroom without it. You will hear it ringing incessantly and find 4 missed calls before you are finished. Even going outside to do a bit of gardening can create havoc - I once planted a new tree and the phone must have slipped out of my pocket into the hole. When I couldn't find it, I got my son to call my phone and lo and behold!, it was underground and I had to dig it up again. Fortunately I hadn't yet watered the plant!

A large part of the problem is that women's clothing doesn't have pockets for cellphones, unlike men who are always or mostly wearing pants. And we don't always take a bag with us, especially if it's a quick walk down to the rocks to look at the waves. The major part of the problem is the reaction from my family if I don't answer my phone; They suffer from momisntansweringhercellphonephobia. It's an all-persons alert and the phone lines buzz as the 3 of them phone each other to find out where I am - my husband I suspect just wants to make sure I'm at home and not out having coffee with friends or maybe something a little more exciting, my son usually just wants to know what's for dinner, but my daughter always suspects that I've slipped and broken my hip! The last time she couldn't reach me, she was on the point of sending out the police to look for an old woman who had had a heart attack walking near the lighthouse! I ask you! How incompetent do they think I am?

So I long for the days when nobody ever knew where I was and didn't have to worry about it.

The Glencairn shoreline

Despite doctor's orders, I joined the hiking group for today's very tame stroll along the shore from Dido Valley to Glencairn wetlands and back. We took it easy as our end-of-year lunch was on the menu back at the new shopping centre (the name escapes me, but it is on the site of the old Marine Oil refinery).
This part of False Bay is another place I have never walked along, although I have travelled the route thousands of times over the years, first as a child when fetching Father from work at the navy in Simon's Town, and later as part of the never-to-be-tired-of scenic route around the Peninsula. Cars are useful things but we are inclined to stay in them and seldom stop along the way to explore lesser attractions. We discovered some lovely little beaches, a now-abandoned tiny tidal pool with disused buildings from a previous era built into the rocks (the remains of two toilets led us to the nasty discovery of raw sewage gushing into the sea!) and a refurbished splash pool at the end of the concreted walkway before the beach. This area is in sad need of repair, with evidence of damage by heavy seas and general neglect - it could be a wonderful recreation area - but then again, it's also nice to have a hidden gem for a quiet morning on the beach.
A light southeaster made for pleasant walking conditions and, aside from the sewage spot, the sea is crystal clear and inviting. The current temperature is around 20 degrees Celsius, not bad for a dip.
The train line was crossed a number of times, and we had to take care to look in both directions as at least 4 trains went by. Simon's Town is the end of the line that runs down the Peninsula from Cape Town, and it was a surprise that so many came this far. There cannot have been too many passengers. I have long held the view that the railway line should end between Lakeside and False Bay, with the tracks being converted into another roadway and passengers switching to a good bus service to reach the southern suburbs, but it's too late for that now.
Apart from the fresh sea air and tumbling waves, this is not a particularly pretty walk, but enjoyable nonetheless. Lunch was lovely and the centre looks very promising for an alternative to the hideously congested Sun Valley area. My ankle survived the stroll very well in its brace but for the next few weeks it will be rest time.

What a pain!

Having sprained my ankle on last week's Cape Point hike, I now find myself on doctor's orders to rest it for 6 weeks, wear a brace for 3 weeks and then wear a brace on hikes, as the ankle is now a weak point (it has been my whole life - could never ice skate!). What a disaster! The only worse scenario would have been a broken ankle. Imagine having to be airlifted off a mountain by a helicopter!? It would make for another exciting life experience, though. Hmmm. I've always said the reason for my bright pink sun hat is so the helicopter can see me when it comes to find me - talk about tempting fate.
A very important reason for all the hiking is that I find it therapeutic and a marvellous stress releaser, and if I could find the time to hike three times a week, I would. So to be almost confined to barracks is anathema to me. Fortunately this is the time of year when everyone takes a break and so I won't miss too many, but fitness is also a factor, and so I have taken to the exercise bicycle that I found lurking in my daughter's room, cleverly disguised as a clothes horse, and which I had entirely forgotten about.
We lugged this incredibly heavy piece of gym equipment into the lounge and parked it in front of the TV (everyone said it would give me something to do while exercising). Well, you would be hard pressed to find anything remotely entertaining on DStv, even with the Premium package, and it's hard to do Magic Puzzles on a tablet while doing my version of spinning. The saddle doesn't bear discussion - suffice to say that the only sitting position suitable for a lady is far, far away from it. I have always said that the best shape for a bicycle saddle is a tractor seat - what do you men have to say?
I don't know if I'm going to behave and lay off the hiking for so long, especially as the brace makes for easy walking. Let's see what happens.

Putting it in writing

Everybody seems to be writing a book. We all have a story to tell, whether it is a memoir, a story that we dreamt one night, something that we thought of since school days or just wanting to share your thoughts on life with the world. With the advent of self-publishing and e-books, anyone can now be published and not depend on the whim of a publishing house, who have been known to make major decision blunders in the past by rejecting authors who works have gone on to be regarded as classics of literature or just plain bestsellers with no literary merit whatsoever. Be that as it may, the important thing is that there is now a platform for those who wish to make their voices heard and we may have the opportunity to discover new and talented authors in our midst. Although you may never achieve bestselling status, your success will be in having actually done what you wanted to - become an author.

The best way to do this is to begin with good old-fashioned pen and paper. The act of writing by hand somehow draws the words out from the heart and it is widely regarded as being cathartic to release feelings of distress and anxiety through writing them down and then burning the paper. This is particularly beneficial if done every day, first thing in the morning while the anxieties that have kept you awake are fresh in your mind. Many of you will be familiar with this - it's known as doing your morning pages - and even if you don't have any worries, you can fill two pages with any thoughts that come to mind and then burn them, in readiness for a fresh start every day.

If you are one of those who dreams of being an author, don't let anyone discourage you. Believe in your own ability and be true to yourself. Don't slog it out according to some established formula or plan - you don't need to write like a Mills & Boon novel; you must just ensure that your grammar, spelling and punctuation are up to scratch. Whatever you have to say, let it come out the way you think it. That is your real voice, and it may be the one the world is waiting for.

And with that, it's back to work...