A stroll through Kirstenbosch

Having forgotten to put on my high heels and slopped through Cavendish Square in running shoes last week, today I had an opportunity to rectify this. I duly dressed for a cool day in Cape Town according to the weather forecast and set off on errands, which involved taking Dad from pillar to post. What I didn't foresee was that after the Cavendish leg of the outing, we would be going to Kirstenbosch, our world-famous and most favourite place for enjoying the indigenous flora of the Cape Floral Kingdom and beyond.
Of course, most of the gardens are on a steep slope requiring tremendous stamina and definitely running shoes. But today I had on the high heels, didn't I? Ah well! Nevertheless, they are fairly comfortable, but I could have done without the tight jeans in what turned out to be a rather warm day. Being a Tuesday, it was Pensioners Day (free) and they were out in force, jostling for position in the line for the tearoom and ambling along the pathways as all good pensioners should.

We left Dad resting on Uncle Norman's bench (our great-uncle) which has been ideally sited near the pond since about 1973 and took a stroll around the lower slopes only (on account of the heels) and it was only afterwards that I realised I should have just taken them off and gone barefoot! The vygies and daisies are still in good nick despite it being October and I would have liked to go to the upper reaches to admire the glorious proteas, but that will have to be another time, maybe next week.
Kirstenbosch was Mother's favourite place and she always bewailed the fact that she didn't go there often enough. She would point out the huge oak tree which she remembered from her childhood, and doubtless there were many more trees that shaded her in her youth. I am quite sure she was walking with us and enjoying the beauty that inspired her garden at home.

Poised for take-off

With my uninterrupted view of the old gum tree next door, there is always an opportunity to photograph some kind of bird, but the ones I always look out for are the raptors. A number of black sparrowhawks alight on the dead branches in between forays for food among the pigeons I feed - obviously not at the same time, but every year there is a new one and sometimes an older one comes back. They breed up the road at Imhoff's Gift and have identifying rings on their legs. I can watch as their plumage changes from juvenile to mature and some are melanistic in that their colouring is not the norm. All in all, makes identification of birds quite a challenge.

Preening its feathers - a lot of time is spent on this!

Juvenile black sparrowhawk nearly completed moulting

Take off - photographer over-excited

 There is occasionally a visit from the smaller red-breasted sparrowhawk, and even less frequently, a peregrine falcon. I spend hours with the camera zoomed in, taking hundreds of photos (fortunately digital so I can delete them all again!), with the ultimate aim of capturing a raptor taking off from a branch. I have even identified the pre-flight movement so that I know when it is all going to happen, but usually the shutter takes too long to open and I just get a picture of a dead branch. So today I could see the bird starting to twitch and sure enough, it took off as I clicked. I was so excited at having achieved my goal of some years that I rushed to download the picture to the computer to admire my handiwork, only to find to my extreme dismay that over-excitement had prevailed and the photo is hopelessly out of focus. But it still captures the movement and will have to do until next time!

Spicy food to warm the cockles of your heart

This wintry weather turns thoughts to curry - though truth to tell, it doesn't take much to turn my thoughts to curry. We love hot, spicy food in this family and although I have always made my curries from scratch, with individual spices, I spotted a gentleman at the food market at the mall yesterday and took a selection of his mixes. The vindaloo was abundant with chilli and I could see that the hot part, the seeds, were rife. So tonight we are having chicken vindaloo and I have just had a taster. When my nose starts to drip on the second mouthful, you know it's hot, but surprisingly the heat is not unbearable and the taste is mouthwateringly authentic.

Spices have numerous health benefits, just as herbs do, and unless we eat them regularly and in quantity, we are not going to have optimum health. It doesn't take long to adjust to spicy food and I can assure you that there will be no looking back when you do. The very thought of curry is enough to make the salivary glands burst into action, which indicates a pleasurable experience associated with such foods! Great for enhancing your mood, too.
Remember that drinking water is not the solution if the curry is too hot and your mouth is on fire. Milk, yoghurt and particularly avocado will put out the fire at once. Hence the traditional accompaniments!

Masses of yellow daisies

October already! After yesterday's pouring rain, it seems as though every yellow daisy in Kommetjie grew from seed to full bloom overnight! Thanks to the lack of mowing of the lawns at the Kom and the verges by the city council 'gardening' department, we are being treated to the greatest display of indigenous flora ever seen in this area, according to long-time residents, myself included.

The lawn in front of my house is a blaze of yellow even though the grass is knee high, and no mower will be going there until the flowers are over. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the neighbours having the piece of council ground abutting theirs mown. How could a person push a machine through a field of flowers so that the lawn could be cut? Not even their property, open ground for all to enjoy!  Oh well, it takes all types. 

Down on the rocks, the spiny lizards are lounging - there is a huge population and they appear very happy in their habitat. I saw one that had a fork in its tail - a second tail growing out from halfway down the main tail - it actually looked as though it had lost part and two new tails had grown from the stump. Interesting how nature renews itself. Of course, it was too quick for a photo!

Highs and lows

Well, so much for Spring! The much-needed rain is upon us again and the electric blanket is still doing duty - can't believe it was so many years before I got one.
Monday's 'supermoon' (only 14% bigger but 30% brighter), combined with a lunar eclipse, sucked the sea up along the Peninsula coastline in a magnificent display of the power of water. Despite there being no storm conditions, the harbourside restaurants in Kalk Bay were once again flooded as the waves smashed through the windows where only a week before we had enjoyed a wonderful dinner overlooking the floodlit rocks. Then the waves only splashed a light foam against the windows, but we know the destruction that is regularly visited upon these buildings when a gale force southeaster blows. The only form of mopping up that could take place was to open all the doors and just let the sea flow straight through. It was only a drop in the ocean compared to the tsunamis experienced in the East and we can be grateful to have never yet suffered such an ordeal. It wouldn't take too much of a wave to sweep across the densely populated Cape Flats which were once part of the seabed anyway.
This morning it looked as though the plug had been pulled out and the bay near my home was more rocky than watery. When high tide rolled in at 4pm, it was a different story, although still nowhere near the levels we have seen in the past. Here are some photos to show the contrast.

Gecko guard

For most of my life I have had an abhorrence for wriggling, soft-bodied creatures - caterpillars, geckos, etc. The very thought of coming into physical contact with such a thing was enough to cause a convulsion. You know the type, when your whole body shudders and your arms and legs splay in all directions - a strange movement which must be rooted in some ancient caveman activity which we have long forgotten, signifying revulsion.
However, since the advent of Mango Kitty and Mr Bigglesworth, the gecko population of this household (quite impressive, and allowed due to their usefulness as insect catchers) has become endangered. Every night the cats play in the passage with their latest victim and it's no longer safe to walk barefoot in case I stand on a grossly wriggling detached tail or even worse, the rest of the gecko. The only way to protect and save these vulnerable creatures is to pick them up and take them back outside, and as always, the job falls to me.
So I have spoken sternly to myself and reminded me that all fears can be conquered simply by changing the way you think, and I have told myself that I have absolutely no problem picking up geckos, although the separated tail is still a work in progress! They are very gentle creatures and are only too happy to climb onto an outstretched hand. They are extremely cold to the touch and once they have a grip on you, are impossible to prise off. Now I know how they stick to the ceiling above the bed - no fear any more that they will lose suction and drop onto my face!
The same philosophy can be applied to anything in life, but I think that it was made easier by the necessity to be a lifesaver, rather than let them die in the clutches of the cats!

Luck on my side, sort of

Living here in Kommetjie where life is casual and relaxed, it is easy to fall into the habit of wearing loose, comfortable clothing and old, well worn-in shoes. A visit to the local mall will provide evidence that many who live in the south Peninsula are of similar bent, although I draw the line at tracksuit pants. And so when the opportunity arises to step up my game and pull on the skinny jeans, high-heeled boots and figure-hugging shirt with all accessories - scarf to waft delicately, earrings, necklace, red lipstick - I go the whole hog (well, maybe not quite, but enough to elicit comment).
Such an opportunity occurred this week when I went to Claremont and had to park at Cavendish Square. Eagerly anticipating a stroll through its marbled halls and perhaps popping into a shop or two, I was ready to go well before the time to leave. Somewhat distracted by last-minute paperwork and awaiting a visit from a caller who would be collecting something from me, I slipped out of my slippers (I don't wear shoes in the house as a rule) and into my running shoes. (Technically only used for walking.) This was because I would be meeting her in the driveway and the ground was damp. Having concluded the business, I was now running late, so I dashed inside, grabbed my bag and drove off.
Forty minutes later, I eased into a parking place right next to the lifts, opened my door and delicately placed my old-running-shoe-clad foot on the concrete. So much for the sexy high-heeled boots.
I adjusted to my fashion faux pas without too much distress. After all, if I hadn't had to go outside to meet the woman, there is little doubt that my footwear would have been my German felt slippers, big toes peeping out. Would I have continued through the mall, along the street and into the office if I had been in my slippers? Probably!