Contemplation

Today (29 April 2018) was nothing short of perfect, weatherwise, in Kommetjie. A stunner of an autumn day that only Cape Town can produce, with the lightest of southerly winds creating an offshore flow that flattened the sea, with the passing cold front pushing in a shore break of at least six foot. Expert surfers braved the Outer Kom and big breaks towards the lighthouse and some marvellous rides were observed by those enjoying a laze on the rocks or the occasional benches that line the path along the bay.
The benches have been either destroyed by storms over the years, or lately simply vandalised by unwelcome visitors, but there is now a trend of replacing them with indestructible recycled plastic in an aesthetically pleasing faux wood form, and local families have placed memorial plaques on some. This is, to me, one of the very best ways to be remembered, by seeing the name of an old friend and sitting down to join them in spirit, with one of the finest sea views in the world to be enjoyed for eternity. It is sad that there are already four of these plaques in memory of friends, and it is a reminder of our limited time on this planet and how we should live each day as if it is our last, with no regrets or missed opportunities, to be kind whenever possible, and most of all to treat ourselves with love and respect. The material things of life are as nothing when compared to the beauty of this place, and the things that cause us stress, unhappiness, anger and frustration are but fleeting moments of no consequence in the bigger picture of Life, if we would constantly remind ourselves of this. Sit down on one of these benches one day and watch the waves rolling endlessly onto the shore. You will feel it too.

When I'm 64

Who remembers the old Beatles song: When I'm 64? Aren't all Beatles songs old now! When I first heard it on the Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band LP way back in 1967, I was only 11 and thought that 64 was an age that very few could achieve. The young have a very different perception of age than those over 25 or so. When my grandmother was 64, she looked about 80 and this can be verified by the photograph taken of her with her 4 daughters in 1964 (she was born in 1900 so we always knew her age) that I looked at just the other day. What was it that made everyone look so much older then? Was it the permed hair - naturally grey already and no highlights in those days; the dresses, the hand knitted cardigans? Whatever it was, I do know that at 64 I look about 20 years younger than she did.
When I first started working at age 18, the receptionist was an extremely well-groomed woman who must, on reflection many years later, have been well over 40, but one day she asked me how old I thought she looked and I told her 29. She practically kissed the ground I walked on, but I still thought it was old!
Having now achieved this milestone, I can honestly say that it is a wonderful age to be. I've at last found out how to be healthy through eating the right foods, and my stress levels have been brought under control through exercise!
That exercise takes the form of hiking with the most wonderful group of people you could ever choose to hike with! Witty conversation, hints and tips on what books to read, series and movies to watch, investments to make or divest from, interesting life stories - all imparted while we plod along the mountain trails and over hill and dale, along beaches, up steep ravines and across streams (often dry, but still boulder-filled). Encouragement is given to those who feel they will never make it. Heated discussions take place over whether we are on the right path or whether we have seen this tree twice on the hike, and especially over not remembering that the steps were so high or the trail so steep. And yet we always get to the end of the hike, chuffed to have made it, awed by the distance and heights we have scaled, and enraptured by the beauty of the surroundings we have been privileged to pass through. As most of the group are leaning towards 80 and more, it seems I have an awful lot to look forward to still!

Living with Lockdown - 21

Picture the scene:

Nearly 5 weeks of grinding every single plank on a double storey wooden house, three coats of varnish, sanding and three coats of white paint around each window and door frame (still not complete but only one side left to go) and a thorough scrubbing of the balau deck with sugar soap followed by a sealant. House almost shiny and new, a teak colour.

Saturday morning would be a quiet time of painting, and I chose to do the last coat of white on a balcony window, with my daughter varnishing the wall underneath the deck below me. It was a small tin  of paint, and I held it comfortably in my hand, but I forgot that the carpal tunnel operations I had in the past have left me with an uncertain grip and frequent occasions of dropping things. Not three brushstrokes into the exercise and the paint pot slipped from my clumsy grasp, splattering a large Jackson Pollock across the deck and dripping the rest straight between the slats onto the house, my daughter and a concrete slab below.

Headless chicken personified. Shouting from below. Grab the paint pot to see whether water-based. Got to use turps. More headless chicken. Rush through the house and down to the garage. Grab 5l turps and run in circles looking for clean cloth. Daughter now up on deck shouting instructions. Get scrubbing brushes. Throw turps all over splatter. Find old towel. Wipe down house - first success as so smooth it's easily removed. Scrub scrub scrub - more turps. Throw water and brush it all down through the slats. More headless chicken. Coming off but need more turps. Back to garage for another 5l. Throw it on and scrub scrub scrub. Looking good now but what about downstairs?

Another towel and bring the turps, wipe down wall (just painted - will have to be redone), large pool of white paint and turps spreading over concrete. Soon ghostly footprints appear on bricks as slaves running back and forth mopping, mopping.

Why the fuss, you may ask? Wouldn't it be nice to have an arty splash across the deck? Well, He Who Can Fix Anything has a mania for spotless brickwork, etc. and no drip of varnish or paint is allowed. By great good fortune he was nowhere around during the drama, and by the time he appeared, he would have been hard pressed to notice anything on the deck, but the concrete slab gave the game away. More hours of spot cleaning ensued, happily not by me, and that is the end of my attempts at doing the fiddly bits. 

I am sticking to cooking and making tea from now on. (Sadly, time did not allow for taking of a picture of the evidence, and I probably wouldn't have known where to find my phone anyway!)

Living with Lockdown - 20

Today I have nothing of interest to report on. That is assuming that the things I do report on are of interest anyway. Perhaps they only interest me. When I first started my blog, way back in June 2011, I wrote once or twice a week, with the intention of it becoming daily. When I mentioned this to my mother, she said, 'Oh, you don't want to bore people!'
Well, 1 800 posts and 168 000 page views later, be bored. Here's one of the first blogs from 2011:

I once had a BMW 7-series automatic.
I had never thought about owning one.  I was driving a Toyota Conquest at the time.  One day my husband says: "We're taking a drive up the West Coast."  Who am I to argue - I love a drive in the country and we are seldom in the same car.
We get to a small town about 200km from Cape Town and he pulls into a car dealership, goes into the office and comes out with a bunch of keys. "Let's take this car (a large red BMW) round the block." Well, ok. So we go round the block and back into the yard.  He gets out of the car, says "I've bought it for you. See you at home."  (This may seem a trifle odd, but he is not big on discussing things and works on a "need to know" basis.)  He gets into his car and leaves.
So there I am in this huge car, never driven an automatic and his dust has already settled. After figuring out how to adjust the seat in 4 directions so that I can see over the steering wheel, I start the engine, lever the gearshift into Drive and ease out into the street.  I nearly find myself back in the yard thanks to power steering and drive with my fingertips after that. Thank goodness for a Saturday afternoon in a small town - not another car in sight! The onboard computer tells me all kinds of things that I've never needed to know in the Conquest - I've hit the big time now!
It doesn't take long to get used to my new posh car, after all, BMW drivers aren't rocket scientists (well, some may be) and anyway the car drives itself.  It surges forward at the slightest pressure from my foot and it isn't long before we are bowling down the West Coast road at an easy 160km/h.  Ah, the recklessness of it all!  (In my defence, there were no other cars on the road and it was only due to the extremely comfortable and quiet ride that I was unaware of my speed.)
My relaxed journey comes to an abrupt end as I approach the first hurdle, a traffic light, after about 150km. I have to start thinking about how to stop, where's the clutch, there is no clutch, which foot should I use, what do I do with the gearshift?  It is no small panic, I can tell you.  By the time I get home I am exhausted but well able to handle the animal.
My husband was home long before me. "What took you so long?"  How fast did he drive?

Living with Lockdown - 19

Ending a long, hot day outside on the newly painted deck (the sealant used has an odour akin to that of the bilges of a Kalk Bay fishing boat), gazing out into the universe. The Southern Cross is overhead, with the blurred patches of the many star clusters in Eta Carina to the west and familiar Orion heading towards the horizon. If you stand there long enough, you will see satellites sweeping across the blackness before passing into the Earth's shadow and becoming invisible. Tonight a series of 60 Starlink satellites will be launched to add to the debris encircling our world and perhaps increasing the barrier between life on Earth and whatever else may be out there. In February, I was part of a group who chanced to see a string of 30 Starlink satellites stretched across the sky in a very low orbit just after launch and to say it was a surreal experience doesn't quite describe it. I don't know if I will ever see such a thing again - science fiction in real life.
The purpose of these satellites is to bring 5G to the whole world and this very controversial technology has caused heated discussions between the factions on each end of the 'what I believe in' spectrum, with nobody producing an entirely satisfactory argument either for or against. Much is made of the anti-5G brigade as being misinformed about its effect on people, but I would venture to say that the concern should rather be directed at its effect on birds and insects, who are in effect the lifeblood of this planet. This is the aspect that needs to be proven one way or the other and I have yet to find someone who has the answer.
We, the human race, are currently being taught a valuable life lesson by Nature - whether we learn anything from it or not remains to be seen. Previous diseases (the Black Plague, Spanish Flu) and ongoing wars throughout history have wiped out millions of people, but this time it seems Man wants to beat Nature at its game. What are the chances?

Living with Lockdown - 18

As we pack away the paint pots at the end of another perfect autumn day in Kommetjie, golden light bathes the mountains  bas the sun lowers itself towards the far horizon. The glassy sea belies the heavy swell still coming in from the cold front, and I see a gigantic wave breaking in the gap between the houses looking towards Hout Bay. Every view counts these days, and it is a privilege to still be able to see the waves thundering against the foot of the Sentinel, or passing ships, both behemoths and dinghies.
Under normal circumstances, this would be the time of day to wander along the boardwalk towards the lighthouse, meeting other dog walkers and strollers basking in the last sunlight, watching the sea birds returning to roost on the rocks, or the smaller cisticolas, grass birds and robin-chats in the low shrubs along the shoreline.
Pleasantries would be exchanged with those who are only met on this daily ritual, friends for a moment in time, or ships that pass in the night. We might sit on one of the benches that line the bay, many bearing memorial plaques to those who were friends and neighbours over the years, now only a distant memory.
This seaside village has seen many changes over the last 40 years, but the ebb and flow of the tides along the shoreline between the lighthouse and Long Beach is something that will endure forever, bringing a little piece of paradise to those who wander here.

Living with Lockdown - 17

On the second from top rung of the ladder (climbing mountains cured me of a fear of heights), putting the third coat of paint around the window before tomorrow's rain. A loud bang. I look up from under the gutter into the face of a curious baboon. She bobs back out of sight and I go inside with the paint pot in case it is snatched from me as a hopeful snack. Can you imagine all our hard work being ruined by a pot of white paint splattered across the walls by a runaway baboon?
Next thing she is down on the rail and jumping across to the neighbour, along the wall and across the field. So back up the ladder and on with the painting. Dogs barking in the background, so more baboons on the way. Sure enough, the regular female with baby on back is on the fence, being chased my way. She drops down into the garden and heads straight for the gazanias, just coming into flower with their bright and so beautiful orange petals - a very rewarding and easy to grow plant - and promptly picks all the flowers off one, devouring them with gusto. Another young adult joins her and sits calmly eating the small green tomatoes that self-seed all over the garden. I bang on the railing and request firmly that they desist. This is met with an insolent sideways glance as they continue to pick every single flower head off the gazanias, shred a few plants for good measure and then head for greener pastures.
It seems nothing is safe to grow. Flowers, proteas, fruit - I hope they will leave the lemons, but don't hold out much hope for the huge gooseberry bush that is flourishing around the lemon tree. The rest of the garden is a shambles, covered in fine sawdust and splinters from planks levered out and thrown down, flakes of old paint, broken branches from moving the scaffold and particularly from baboon activity. I'm hoping for a spell of heavy rain to wash the leaves clean, rinse the debris into the furthest corner of the garden and give me a rest from climbing ladders!

The birds are not put off by our activity

Living with Lockdown - 16

And the days grind on, literally. The pace of refurbishment has slowed, with the slaves doing more of the work and the slave driver cracking the whip from the bottom of the ladder. Occasional visits from baboons provide for a little entertainment and not much notice is taken of them as they pass by along the wall or lollop across the neighbouring roof. It seems that if the monitors leave them alone they remain calm and chilled, although still opportunistic in the search for an easy meal. Two large males strolled suddenly past us with barely a glance and took no notice of the dogs barking and charging at them, merely jumping lithely out of reach onto the wall. Lockdown lounging is becoming the order of the day for the animals, wild and domestic.
New birds continue to visit, with a Cape Batis and Orange-breasted Sunbird a few days ago (time has dribbled into a continuum of yesterday and today with no particular day of the week observed), and today the Bokmakierie serenaded us from the gum tree, followed by a Brimstone Canary. Perhaps we are seeing all these visitors because we are outside all the time overlooking the garden, but I like to think that they are reclaiming the land! So grinding and painting are interspersed with a dash inside for cameras and a bit of clicking.
The sunsets have been spectacular - this is usually reserved for May in the Cape, but perhaps it will be an early winter and the weather patterns are favourable for cloud. A little surprise shower was most welcome yesterday.
Inside the house, it looks like a construction site, with all the outside furniture and plants from the deck now on the inside. Not paying enough attention to making the doors and windows airtight compounded the ingress of sawdust, which spread throughout the house and necessitated some intensive mopping and wiping. Not only is the outside getting a facelift, but the inside too!

Living with Lockdown - 15

It has been pointed out to me that although I profess to be pushing scaffolding around, climbing ladders and wielding a paintbrush, there is no photographic evidence of this participation in the renovations. I can assure you it is not for want of trying. I keep bleating on about how nobody is taking pictures of me, while I always have my phone handy to capture an arty shot of a figure against the skyline, neatly framed in a scaffold, or reaching up to replenish the paint pot. I am told that they are too busy and have something in each hand, and why do I want my picture taken anyway? Well, to prove that I was there, of course!
That's the trouble with always being behind the lens - you have to remember to ask someone to take a photo of you so your friends can see that you actually did climb Lion's Head or Paarl Rock or some other such impressive achievement, rather than use someone else's photos from the hike.
HWCFA has been taking pictures of us, but hasn't revealed what he intends to do with them. Perhaps he is planning on sending out CVs for us to paint other people's houses after this lockdown eventually reaches its last day. Or it's to keep a record of what we are capable of next time he has us cornered with no place to hide. I, too, have been keeping a pictorial history of his movements - sometimes leaning back in a chair, deep in thought with his eyes closed so that he can concentrate. This may be used as evidence against him should the occasion arise!
I have retreated somewhat to the business of the kitchen, where 3 meals and 2 teas per day are still being pumped out, and although I love to cook, I am starting to think a little ladder time might be preferable!

Autumn light

Raining over the sea!

Thoughts from the past, now current

I spent a good part of the day thinking of Easters past, when Mom and Dad were still with us. I played music from my childhood that reminded me of them and relived the happy days of Sunday lunches and being in the kitchen with Mom - today I made all the food she used to make for us. Before I became too dejected at missing them so, I changed the music and the mood, but being in lockdown doesn't help alleviate it too much. However, the self-isolation in the kitchen was in itself therapeutic.
I scrolled through blogs from the past, and here is one from the last Easters where we were all together. Good Friday, 2014. I thought that my sentiments matched the current re-setting of the world quite aptly:

There has been a growing trend over the last few decades of women who, once their children have left home, take the opportunity to follow their lead and leave the family home to pursue a life of what interests them, rather than continuing to be subject to the whims and moods of the man they married some 20 or more years before. These women are no longer prepared to put up with what following the 'norms of society' has brought, and have the courage to leave the security of their homes and seek fulfilment and hopefully some adventure before life has completely passed them by. You may know some of them or even be one of them.

For thousands of years (?) women have received the thin edge of the wedge, with their role being assigned to the kitchen and other menial tasks with no recognition of the worth of their contribution to the world. This has led to domestic abuse on a world-wide scale, fuelled by male-dominated societies where women have been afraid to stand up for themselves. The Western world is the least restrictive in its treatment of women, but the atrocities reported daily in the media beggar belief. While there are many men who do in fact treat their women as the most special person in their life, they are sadly not in the majority in many cultures.

Another growing trend is for women to choose to stay single, for the very reason that they do not wish to grant anyone any form of legal control over their lives. This will certainly be a contributing factor in the reduction of the divorce rate in decades to come, and the divorce attorney may even make the endangered list. A priority for the mothers of the world is to teach their sons how to treat a woman - with respect with a capital R.

Our purpose in living on this planet was not to control, dominate, abuse or hate each other. Today is in fact the day on which we commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus, whose crime was to preach love for your fellow man. Those who feared loss of control took the only route known to them - kill the threat to your power. Since then, the history of the world has shown nothing but a deterioration in human relations, and it is widely believed that we will reach a point of self-destruction that will be alleviated by the return of Jesus, to once again bring the message of what our true purpose of existence is - tolerance, love, peaceful co-existence and non-judgment of your fellow man.

We already all know that message, but conveniently choose to ignore it in this ego-driven, materialistic world. It takes nothing but a change of heart to change the world. A virus has been sent to test us. This may be our last chance.

Living with Lockdown - 14

The renovation continues, with only a break on Good Friday - no use of power tools, but a full day's painting nonetheless. Today it was a rush to get the first two coats on the weather side before the arrival of the cold front tonight, and a sterling job was done by son up the scaffold all day, while daughter and I pushed the scaffold up and down the side of the house, manoeuvring skilfully round the satellite dish on numerous occasions. By great good fortune, the brick paving is in exactly the right place to accommodate the scaffold, except for a short piece of about 4 inches where it joins the flowerbed. Easily solved - yank out the bromeliads as they can survive periods out of the soil very well - and put a plank in place.
The slaves have declared a mutiny for tomorrow, being Easter Sunday, and a Sunday anyway, and once again rain is the decider. It seems as though Sundays are going to be rainy days rather than resting days. With the lockdown extended to the end of April - and no possibility of relocation - it seems as though more work will be done here than in the last 15 years. A positive outcome if we survive the work and each other.
The birds are having a riotous time at the feeder, and are not in the least bothered by the activity around them. The dogs have given up barking except when baboons turn up where they can see them, and even then they seem to be losing interest, as long as we are relaxed about their presence.
The baboons haven't visited for a few days now, apart from a lone male a few roofs away, barking to the rest of the troop who apparently ignored him and went to seek greener pastures in a different part of town.
The terns that live on the island got themselves a feast this evening, as a successful fishing outing saw them all flying over the house back to their roost, each with a good sized fish in its beak - many 100s of them well fed. Nature is loving the break from people!

Living with Lockdown - 13

The number on the blog title doesn't relate to the number of days in lockdown. Some of them have not been worthy of recording.
The autumn days continue to be spectacular in Cape Town. The softer light after the harsh summer sun brings different hues to the dawn sun on the mountains, and the shadows cast by the valleys and ridges have changed as the sun continues its northward journey. This is the time of year I love best, when hiking is most enjoyable as the heat lessens, the sea breeze starts to come in from the Atlantic with accompanying aromas of kelp and salt air, and we start to look forward to the winter rains.
Easter is often a time of strong southeasters and awe-inspiring photos of waves pounding against the sea wall at Kalk Bay harbour feature prominently, but this year we are looking forward to a westerly wind bringing the first real cold front, and hopefully this will materialise.
Right now the sea off Kommetjie is glassy and calm, the kelp fronds lying flat across the surface at low tide. After the pink supermoon yesterday, when the moon was at perigee, the tidal range will be exceptional, but we won't be down on the rocks, picking black mussels from the safe zone well below the normal low tide mark. We won't be there to see if the otters are playing in the surf or taking food to their midden. There may be snakes sunning themselves on the rocks, getting a last bit of warmth to see them through winter, but no dogs will be there to disturb them. The spiny lizards that so love to lounge must be out in their numbers, enjoying the peace and tranquillity, and birds sing unheard in the coastal shrubs as they flit about their business.
The beauty of nature will always be there, free for us to enjoy. It's having a breather for now.
These are a few of my paintings to remind us of gentle days.

Living with Lockdown - 12

The baboons don't come here for food anymore. They sit on the garage roof next door and watch the strange happenings up the scaffold. The screech of grinders and sanders doesn't frighten them off, and swathes of dust covering the grindees seem more a source of fascination and curiosity. They jump casually onto the roof and stroll over, shinning down the drainpipe and scaling the facebrick of the house next door to get a different view. We have learned to ignore them and let them go about their business - ensuring that there is no visible food and all blinds are closed so they can't peek into the kitchen.
Speaking of the kitchen, the inmates don't want to get into the spirit of lockdown hardship, shunning my offers of tinned meatballs in baked beans, or tinned chicken breyani, or even tinned butterbean curry. They still want three restaurant quality meals a day! I spend most of my time in the kitchen now, staying far away from ladders and dust, only venturing out to put on the washing or hang it out or carry a tray of tea and biscuits up or down the stairs. In a way, this is my 'alone time'. It isn't ideal but allows me to at least get on with a bit of admin on the computer, try my hand at some of the brainteasers going around on WhatsApp (I should try my brain instead of my hand) and especially listen to music. Music is the salvation of the soul in most instances.
Spending a while on the deck every day, watching the birds at the feeder, is also very soothing and entertaining too. The constant competition for the sugar water (no seed balls or fruit because of the baboons) is very revealing of the pecking order amongst the species, and there are plenty of opportunities for fun photography.
A sombre greenbul alighted briefly on a twig right nearby, an unusual thing for this bird that prefers to hide in the canopy of a forest. There have been four of them flying around lately - an exciting sighting for us.
And so the days go by...

Living with Lockdown - 11

The soft swish of brushes against smooth wood was the only noise to break the silence as Sunday saw us rushing to put a few coats of paint on the bare planks before the promised rain. The therapeutic activity made the slaves cheerful and a little whistling and banter could be heard, while HWCFA kept himself busy tidying up the workbench. Round about lunch time a soft, gentle rain began to fall and it was time to tuck in to a warming lamb curry rustled up miraculously between brush strokes by Slave 1. A little lying around ensued, before a few games of Catan (which we thought would be keeping us occupied in lockdown).
On cue, Bobby and Jane Baboon with baby on back arrived with a jar of rice purloined along the way. They scaled the heights up onto the roof where they made enough noise for a whole troop. A few more passed by but didn't share in the feast, and then we heard the familiar sound of the monitors' paintball guns. After a while, silence, and they had moved on. Our newly painted wood now has two blobs of blue paintball paint splattered against it, dripping down towards the pristine white stripe.
The sudden respite from hard labour has left us disoriented, and we almost went outside again when the rain briefly stopped at sunset, but instead we tucked into another marvel from the kitchen, apple crumble and custard.
The dishwasher was put into action for what seems like the 500th time this week, and soon it will be lights out. Hopefully it will rain a little tomorrow so we can have a bit more of a weekend! Today's rainfall has taken a little pressure off the poor garden, still struggling after a long summer and looking forward to Easter when the weather traditionally turns in the Cape.

Sitting down at the rocks at the lighthouse hours before lockdown last Thursday

Living with Lockdown - 10

A blanket of fog lay over Kommetjie today. It may have lain elsewhere, too, but I didn't have the opportunity to test it out. It's frequently foggy here while the sun shines 100m away and we are completely unaware that we are the only place not having summer. A feature of the fog is the eerie booming of the foghorns of the ships that pass close by. Despite all of the technology at hand, a ship must still sound a foghorn and have a person on watch on the bridge day and night. A safety net, I suppose.
The cool breeze from the sea brought relief to the slaves sanding and grinding and sweeping - the past two days of over 30 degrees were almost unbearable but for the afternoon shade on the side we are working on. We have turned the corner, so to speak, and are now making a little progress on the north side which gets the full effect of the sea air and sunshine, so damaging to wood over the years. This area has to be sanded to the bare wood and the kids have been superstars in their application to the task at hand.
A few days ago the weather website forecast substantial rain for Sunday and Monday and we were looking forward to a forced break, but as is often the case, the forecast has dwindled to a trickle tomorrow. It is Sunday and supposed to be a day of rest, but HWCFA doesn't subscribe to that idea, and so this lockdown is turning out to be literally a month of Sundays, being the only day we are all at home together usually. Monday has always been my favourite day of the week. Here's hoping for rain.

A splash of colour to brighten the garden

Living with Lockdown - 9

It would be best to not comment on today. Instead, here are some photos of beautiful flowers (and a few birds!) found in our mountains, from the Cederberg in the north to Hermanus in the east - the richest floral kingdom in the world. We will return.

Living with Lockdown - 8

It's just beautiful outside this evening. Balmy, still, only the sound of a tiny shorebreak down at the rocks. Beetles clicking in the milkwoods, a pair of night herons giving their distinctive call as they fly down to the lighthouse for a night of foraging. Bright Venus glowing red on the hazy horizon, flickering like a candle flame before disappearing from view. Orion rampant in the sky, chasing after Taurus the bull, with the Gemini twins following. Satellites criss-cross the darkness, eyes in the sky.
All this a far cry from the business of the day - up and down ladders and scaffolding, sanding, grinding, sawing, painting, moving years of stored wood from one place to another, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.
We should all come out of lockdown fit and trim (as long as I don't keep on making three meals a day with tea and biscuits in between), as my Fitbit indicates plenty of exercise and we are all asleep by 9pm. Whether we will still be talking to each other remains to be seen. There is already some doubt as to whether the makeover of the exterior will even be completed in the stipulated time. Who knows? Maybe we will just take a holiday and read a book, or paint on a canvas, or just lie on the bricks looking up at the sky through the last remaining leaves on the tree. I hope so.

A late-flowering George lily surprised me today. Mom saying hello.

The sea like a mirror after yesterday's huge waves. Kelp peeking out above surface.

Sunset behind the milkwood

Living with Lockdown - 7

The Cape Doctor blew across our locked-down land today, sending sheets of spray scudding across the sea and horses' manes peeling off the crests of the swells pushing into the bay. Through the tangled trunks of the ancient milkwoods that line the path between me and the bay, I can see the sun sparkling and dancing on the water, and hear the seabirds calling as they roam the rocks unhindered by chasing dogs.
It seems surreal that we cannot simply cross the road and meander along the footpath that leads to the wide open spaces right in front of us, but to do so would be to laugh in the face of those who are enduring this time under unimaginably difficult circumstances and it is almost an obligation to stand together in our restricted freedom. There must be surfers in a cold sweat at the thought of not paddling out to the Outer Kom for a few more weeks.
Ships sail by, their crews or passengers perhaps wondering whether they will be allowed to disembark at the next port and find their way home, or whether the high seas will be home for a while more.
The baboons sat at the top of the cliffs, looking down to see who might have left doors open, and the leader of the troop barked out his call for them to gather and set off down the mountain to forage. To see them leaping across the cliff face at speed, agile and surefooted, was to be reminded again of their silent and swift presence that catches us unawares. At sunset, they will again be basking on the cliffs at their chosen sleeping place overlooking the lighthouse on one side and the white beaches and tumbled boulders of the coastline leading down to Cape Point on the other. They will contemplate the world as the sun sinks into the sea at the end of another day in this beautiful part of the Cape, and we will be confined as animals are in zoos. There must be a lesson in all of this.