This is known as a "klippiche" a sudden bursting upwards of a huge pile of rocks.This one is on the farm .I refer to it as our "mountain". At the very top, a name is carved into the granite :"R.Petersen 1902". It has been joined by the Klinkenberg/Evans names cica 2008 [but in indelible ink!]
Weavers nest in pine tree en route to Cape
Weaver bird
Weaver Bird ..still cant quite get over seeing "canary`s" in as much abundance as sparrows in the UK.The trouble with living in the desert.
Since my last post, all has been uncannily quiet at the farm; the vines have drifted into slumber mode and are turning brown, water remains scarce and the gentle burble of conversation even more so. The odd workman is kicking around, giving some consideration to “lazy” paving the odd wall, any serious effort being spent wholly on sweet talking Regna to produce steaming cups of coffee [successfully!].
Moses is tinkering with the large holes in the driveway that were caused during the storm, and Bossy, in between his many other orchestrations, is applying much thought and effort to the idea of adding a pizza oven in the small courtyard outside our kichen, making use of an existing, if ramshackle braai, where the chickens delighted in nesting. They have now been encouraged to seek alternative accommodation, and we shall have to wait and see what manifests itself in their place, perhaps a drive in!
According to Moses, Winter is upon us, and he has observed its arrival, by donning replacement head gear on the cooler days!...its woolen and knitted and judging from its wispy tendrils, made from mohair,…Oh… its also stripped in bright purple and blue, which set against the very dark tone of his skin colour, makes him look as though he is perpetually lit up in neon.! Every time I see him in it, I can’t take my eyes from him; such is the power of the illusion created.
As Moses did with his “summer beanie”, he wears his winter hat perched upon the top of his head, and when he is feeling particularly chilled, he underpins the look with a thigh length, denim jacket with thick fleece lining. And under that?……always shorts, rugby socks and thick leather boots. These boots are Moses pride and joy, and standard issue, come Winter and summer..
I have been without a vehicle for much of the week, as the “Raisin” is in Up for repairs. Bossies need being greater than mine, requires that the “ NUT” is commandeered for Company business. I have to say that with there only being two key fobs that control the big green gates, even if I am fortunate enough to find myself with a vehicle, I’m not a “key holder” and have to rely on there being someone at the farm to let me out and then back in again. I shall get the dogs in training to press the wall button in the scullery that can also open & close, said gates for me.
I was able to make a “prison break” to Kak for supplies on Tuesday with Bossy`s bank card, and an hour at Marica and Gerrits on Wednesday .Apart from these outings, I have been well and truly stuck on the farm.
Moses is tinkering with the large holes in the driveway that were caused during the storm, and Bossy, in between his many other orchestrations, is applying much thought and effort to the idea of adding a pizza oven in the small courtyard outside our kichen, making use of an existing, if ramshackle braai, where the chickens delighted in nesting. They have now been encouraged to seek alternative accommodation, and we shall have to wait and see what manifests itself in their place, perhaps a drive in!
According to Moses, Winter is upon us, and he has observed its arrival, by donning replacement head gear on the cooler days!...its woolen and knitted and judging from its wispy tendrils, made from mohair,…Oh… its also stripped in bright purple and blue, which set against the very dark tone of his skin colour, makes him look as though he is perpetually lit up in neon.! Every time I see him in it, I can’t take my eyes from him; such is the power of the illusion created.
As Moses did with his “summer beanie”, he wears his winter hat perched upon the top of his head, and when he is feeling particularly chilled, he underpins the look with a thigh length, denim jacket with thick fleece lining. And under that?……always shorts, rugby socks and thick leather boots. These boots are Moses pride and joy, and standard issue, come Winter and summer..
I have been without a vehicle for much of the week, as the “Raisin” is in Up for repairs. Bossies need being greater than mine, requires that the “ NUT” is commandeered for Company business. I have to say that with there only being two key fobs that control the big green gates, even if I am fortunate enough to find myself with a vehicle, I’m not a “key holder” and have to rely on there being someone at the farm to let me out and then back in again. I shall get the dogs in training to press the wall button in the scullery that can also open & close, said gates for me.
I was able to make a “prison break” to Kak for supplies on Tuesday with Bossy`s bank card, and an hour at Marica and Gerrits on Wednesday .Apart from these outings, I have been well and truly stuck on the farm.
These huge rocks lie all around the edges of the vineyards from where they were cleared around 40 years ago,and never cease to amaze me , because of their size and their different textures and formations.I have managed to get out onto the wilderness with the dogs every afternoon, through an unlocked side gate and was coping admirably, until Bossy decided to disappear in The NUT, golfing on Saturday for the day, and without Moses here to open the gates, I was well and truly grounded. Being without cigarettes did nothing to improve my demeanor, nor did finding every single gate on the entire premises locked!!!!! 
The dogs mooching around the edges of the vineyards..notice the Beefwoods that are here to provide wind protection.
The dogs mooching around the edges of the vineyards..notice the Beefwoods that are here to provide wind protection.Bereft of sufficient human interaction, I have managed to get bored and incredibly lonely and have spent too many hours missing everyone. How I hate feeling sorry for myself! With my spirits so low at the moment, I have had to try very, very hard to keep busy.
Gardening has always been a source of pleasure & comfort for me, so this was top of my list at the outset of the week, Moses looks on and shivers, as I breeze around in shirt sleeves and wax lyrical on how wonderful the weather is , around 28 during the afternoons ,dropping to 6-10 at night and first thing, this means that we have at last reached a very “workable” outside temperature and I am able to hit the garden, without feeling drained within a few minutes, looking back at these past weeks, I realize that my faithful dogs have provided me with hours of company, entertainment and joy! So much so I regret, not being able to bark! ..Give it time though…….
The trouble with tarpaulin
On Monday, leaving Regina to the house shortly after her arrival,[8.00a.m]. I collected the few gardening tools from where Moses hides them in the garage, and headed for the front garden.
Bee sloped along behind me, having seen it all unfold many times before in England but, Bongo is of course a fresher, and was utterly fascinated by the spectacle of me clattering along. He placed himself directly in front and sidelong towards me, finding himself tripped several times by my booted feet, as I humphed along, bedecked with garden implements and a huge sheet of black tarpaulin thrown across my shoulder [for debris].
Heeding my advice, he decided to follow me but within seconds had discovered that if he stepped on the corner of the tarpaulin which was dragging along behind me, he was taken for a fleeting ride, and then to his great amusement, I would stop abruptly, jangling all the tools.
Shrieking at him from across my shoulder did nothing to dampen his delight in this new game, he became progressively more daring, jumping with both front paws on the moving plastic and causing me near whiplash by the time we arrived at the chosen spot.
Once we finally arrived, I set out my tools and began spreading the tarpaulin …,
Having already discovered this stuff was a huge source of pleasure, Bongo decided to assist, but without having a scrap of understanding as to the purpose of my “game”.
I had just finished flattening one end, and moved around to the opposite one, when he launched himself towards the flattened end, grabbing it firmly in his jaw, and scraggled it for all he was worth. The more I pulled my end, the more ferocious and hell bent on “winning” his end” he became. Thereafter ensued a tug of war .
I was only aware of it being remotely amusing, when from the corner of my eye I spotted Regina, laughing from a bedroom window. Isn’t it strange when you realize that you have been unknowingly dragged into something that you had no intention of getting involved in…it made me really feisty, and determined that part of Bongo’s first gardening experience, should involve some “gardening etiquette for dogs”… Bee had set herself down looking like a great white sphinx on the grass, very serene and chilled, so I was hopeful of her help or at least her example.
Finally plunging into the least jungle like [and therefore most “un-snakey”] boarder, suitably mitted and booted, I was soon bent double, weed pulling, until Bongo joined me, convinced that I was looking for something that he should also be looking for, and on exactly the same spot…every time I pushed him away, he bounced back..eventualy peering into my upside down face and licking it ,with those generous wet swipes that only a Great Dane tongue can achieve. Within seconds I was on my backside and then my back and Bong was standing on top of me, licking my giggling face like a crazed thing.
Regina had decided I was in need of Coffee, and arrived to a scene of scattered implements, ripped tarpaulin and me flat in my back with a resplendent Bongo on board grinning from ear to ear, and wagging so furiously that my spare tire was sending Mexican waves up and down my torso!…We had left the house ONE HOUR AGO!!!! Clearly Bongo just doesn’t get out enough. [Me neither!].
Area of the garden that will become my "tropical border"!!
Subverting Pavlovs dog experiments.
Ok, second attempt, whilst Bongo was surreptitiously draining the coffee dregs, I returned to the weeds, busying myself for some time, aware that Bee had chaperoned Bongs for a walk around the garden [thank the Lord!]…lost in my small weedy world for ages, I had no idea where they had gone, nor did I really care…. all is fenced, so I wasn’t worried, just carried on forging deeper and deeper into the “Jungle”.
Some considerable time later I returned to my tools to grab a small shovel, it had gone!, along with the secateurs, the small fork, two bin bags & my beloved battered panama gardening hat , neither dog was anywhere to be seen. Why having the dogs there should assist me in the mystery, I have no idea but I called them anyway…within moments I heard the tinkle of Bongo’s bell, which he wears attached to his collar……
Just so as you don’t consider me cruel, its not a cow sized one. It’s rather dainty and about the size of a thumb nail.
BONGO & his Bell
I’m not sure if I have already mentioned this, but I purchased this little brass, bell in Cape Town for Bongo, when he was a much smaller pup, as a result of his persistent attempts at lynching Moses` chicks, from the cover of the wild garlic bushes.
The bell was intended to act as an “early warning device” to give the chicks a fighting chance as they pecked innocently around Bongos favorite hiding places in the garden. It has worked, as we have suffered no fatalities, and Bongo is now completely “Chicken de sensitized!” .This bell places an entirely reverse spin on the Pavlov’s` dog theory, which pleases me hugely.
There have been many occasions that I have had cause to congratulate myself on this bell idea: these times have usually been in the dead of the night, when I have been standing waiting for him to “finish” in the garden….those with black dogs will know exactly what I mean! Or when he has seemingly disappeared of the face of the farm in broad daylight!
Both Bongs and Bee arrived at the place where I was searching for my missing tools [; he is starting to take on the role that Mack did for Bee. A “hearing “dog for a “deaf” dog.]
I stood and demanded if they knew where my hat, my bin bags, my secateurs, trowel and small spade had gone. Bongo watched very seriously as I checked all the lost items off on my fingers. He turned and sauntered towards the tall oval of thick greenery in the centre of the lawn that has at its depths a shallow earthenware pond, but I have never ventured in here, although the dogs delight in doing so.
After a little rustling and a huge amount of splashing, Bongo returned with the small spade dripping from his mouth, and plonked it down on the grass, clearly expecting my congratulations….receiving none, he turned on his heels and entered the oval again, returning, with the secateurs deftly swinging by their strap, once again they were plopped on the grass..
At this point he did get a response, the fate of my Panama was beginning to give me cause for concern…..so I flew into the dark hole of a jungle myself…only to be joined by two excited dogs ,jostling me towards the edge of the pool…. there was my panama, bobbing around on the surface, along with half submerged bin bags and bits of tarpaulin, I presume the trowel was at the very bottom of the pool. Snatching what I could I reversed out of the jungle shaking the hat franticly and shrieking in horror.
I have no doubt that Bongo is responsible for both the pilfering and the wetting. What do I do with this naughty creature? ……He is a meddler, a trickster in the extreme, a waster of time and worst of all a consummate thief. , it seems that no amount of tutoring from me is making any impact, even Bee struggles with him.
Unlike me, she is draconian in her treatment of him, standing for no nonsense of the nipping/biting/teasing sort at all…yet he persists…I have long since given up worrying about the injuries [all minor since the ear incident] he sustains as a result of her retribution.. he bounces back for more, time after time .
Bee has a two pronged approach to his wilder behavior, she becomes very superior and adopts what can only be described as a Queen Victoria look, puckered and aloof.
When this first line of defense fails to send out clear messaging, she makes her body small and concertinaed [it is possible I assure you!] ,and her face becomes incredibly ugly and intimidating as she reveals her full set of gnashers, and she moves with the most astonishing speed and venom, into “attack mode”…it still makes no impression…Bongo cranks up his attack and responds with viper speed, until the two of them are spitting and whipping around at breakneck velocity. With a combined weight of, I imagine, well over 100 kilos, its rather scary to watch.
There is of course a plus side [there has to be one!] I mentioned earlier, Bongs is starting to act as her ears for her, and the two of them do bobble around the farm very much as a twosome nowadays. When we took them to the lake last Saturday night, he played around with the other more energetic dogs for hours, but kept coming back to find her and kiss her jowls or snuffle her ear, before scooting off again. A great time was had by all, until we left and whilst I was busy making sure no tails were caught in the boot, Bossy managed to shut it on my head. Stars, watering eyes…..and a serious sense of humour failure on my part.
I do find Bongo and Bee’s relationship fascinating. …and I think Pam , you might have to do some LOUD dog whispering for me in order that I can get a handle on Bongs CHAOTIC behavior.
Gardening has always been a source of pleasure & comfort for me, so this was top of my list at the outset of the week, Moses looks on and shivers, as I breeze around in shirt sleeves and wax lyrical on how wonderful the weather is , around 28 during the afternoons ,dropping to 6-10 at night and first thing, this means that we have at last reached a very “workable” outside temperature and I am able to hit the garden, without feeling drained within a few minutes, looking back at these past weeks, I realize that my faithful dogs have provided me with hours of company, entertainment and joy! So much so I regret, not being able to bark! ..Give it time though…….
The trouble with tarpaulin
On Monday, leaving Regina to the house shortly after her arrival,[8.00a.m]. I collected the few gardening tools from where Moses hides them in the garage, and headed for the front garden.
Bee sloped along behind me, having seen it all unfold many times before in England but, Bongo is of course a fresher, and was utterly fascinated by the spectacle of me clattering along. He placed himself directly in front and sidelong towards me, finding himself tripped several times by my booted feet, as I humphed along, bedecked with garden implements and a huge sheet of black tarpaulin thrown across my shoulder [for debris].
Heeding my advice, he decided to follow me but within seconds had discovered that if he stepped on the corner of the tarpaulin which was dragging along behind me, he was taken for a fleeting ride, and then to his great amusement, I would stop abruptly, jangling all the tools.
Shrieking at him from across my shoulder did nothing to dampen his delight in this new game, he became progressively more daring, jumping with both front paws on the moving plastic and causing me near whiplash by the time we arrived at the chosen spot.
Once we finally arrived, I set out my tools and began spreading the tarpaulin …,
Having already discovered this stuff was a huge source of pleasure, Bongo decided to assist, but without having a scrap of understanding as to the purpose of my “game”.
I had just finished flattening one end, and moved around to the opposite one, when he launched himself towards the flattened end, grabbing it firmly in his jaw, and scraggled it for all he was worth. The more I pulled my end, the more ferocious and hell bent on “winning” his end” he became. Thereafter ensued a tug of war .
I was only aware of it being remotely amusing, when from the corner of my eye I spotted Regina, laughing from a bedroom window. Isn’t it strange when you realize that you have been unknowingly dragged into something that you had no intention of getting involved in…it made me really feisty, and determined that part of Bongo’s first gardening experience, should involve some “gardening etiquette for dogs”… Bee had set herself down looking like a great white sphinx on the grass, very serene and chilled, so I was hopeful of her help or at least her example.
Finally plunging into the least jungle like [and therefore most “un-snakey”] boarder, suitably mitted and booted, I was soon bent double, weed pulling, until Bongo joined me, convinced that I was looking for something that he should also be looking for, and on exactly the same spot…every time I pushed him away, he bounced back..eventualy peering into my upside down face and licking it ,with those generous wet swipes that only a Great Dane tongue can achieve. Within seconds I was on my backside and then my back and Bong was standing on top of me, licking my giggling face like a crazed thing.
Regina had decided I was in need of Coffee, and arrived to a scene of scattered implements, ripped tarpaulin and me flat in my back with a resplendent Bongo on board grinning from ear to ear, and wagging so furiously that my spare tire was sending Mexican waves up and down my torso!…We had left the house ONE HOUR AGO!!!! Clearly Bongo just doesn’t get out enough. [Me neither!].
Area of the garden that will become my "tropical border"!!Subverting Pavlovs dog experiments.
Ok, second attempt, whilst Bongo was surreptitiously draining the coffee dregs, I returned to the weeds, busying myself for some time, aware that Bee had chaperoned Bongs for a walk around the garden [thank the Lord!]…lost in my small weedy world for ages, I had no idea where they had gone, nor did I really care…. all is fenced, so I wasn’t worried, just carried on forging deeper and deeper into the “Jungle”.
Some considerable time later I returned to my tools to grab a small shovel, it had gone!, along with the secateurs, the small fork, two bin bags & my beloved battered panama gardening hat , neither dog was anywhere to be seen. Why having the dogs there should assist me in the mystery, I have no idea but I called them anyway…within moments I heard the tinkle of Bongo’s bell, which he wears attached to his collar……
Just so as you don’t consider me cruel, its not a cow sized one. It’s rather dainty and about the size of a thumb nail.
BONGO & his BellI’m not sure if I have already mentioned this, but I purchased this little brass, bell in Cape Town for Bongo, when he was a much smaller pup, as a result of his persistent attempts at lynching Moses` chicks, from the cover of the wild garlic bushes.
The bell was intended to act as an “early warning device” to give the chicks a fighting chance as they pecked innocently around Bongos favorite hiding places in the garden. It has worked, as we have suffered no fatalities, and Bongo is now completely “Chicken de sensitized!” .This bell places an entirely reverse spin on the Pavlov’s` dog theory, which pleases me hugely.
There have been many occasions that I have had cause to congratulate myself on this bell idea: these times have usually been in the dead of the night, when I have been standing waiting for him to “finish” in the garden….those with black dogs will know exactly what I mean! Or when he has seemingly disappeared of the face of the farm in broad daylight!
Both Bongs and Bee arrived at the place where I was searching for my missing tools [; he is starting to take on the role that Mack did for Bee. A “hearing “dog for a “deaf” dog.]
I stood and demanded if they knew where my hat, my bin bags, my secateurs, trowel and small spade had gone. Bongo watched very seriously as I checked all the lost items off on my fingers. He turned and sauntered towards the tall oval of thick greenery in the centre of the lawn that has at its depths a shallow earthenware pond, but I have never ventured in here, although the dogs delight in doing so.
After a little rustling and a huge amount of splashing, Bongo returned with the small spade dripping from his mouth, and plonked it down on the grass, clearly expecting my congratulations….receiving none, he turned on his heels and entered the oval again, returning, with the secateurs deftly swinging by their strap, once again they were plopped on the grass..
At this point he did get a response, the fate of my Panama was beginning to give me cause for concern…..so I flew into the dark hole of a jungle myself…only to be joined by two excited dogs ,jostling me towards the edge of the pool…. there was my panama, bobbing around on the surface, along with half submerged bin bags and bits of tarpaulin, I presume the trowel was at the very bottom of the pool. Snatching what I could I reversed out of the jungle shaking the hat franticly and shrieking in horror.
I have no doubt that Bongo is responsible for both the pilfering and the wetting. What do I do with this naughty creature? ……He is a meddler, a trickster in the extreme, a waster of time and worst of all a consummate thief. , it seems that no amount of tutoring from me is making any impact, even Bee struggles with him.
Unlike me, she is draconian in her treatment of him, standing for no nonsense of the nipping/biting/teasing sort at all…yet he persists…I have long since given up worrying about the injuries [all minor since the ear incident] he sustains as a result of her retribution.. he bounces back for more, time after time .
Bee has a two pronged approach to his wilder behavior, she becomes very superior and adopts what can only be described as a Queen Victoria look, puckered and aloof.
When this first line of defense fails to send out clear messaging, she makes her body small and concertinaed [it is possible I assure you!] ,and her face becomes incredibly ugly and intimidating as she reveals her full set of gnashers, and she moves with the most astonishing speed and venom, into “attack mode”…it still makes no impression…Bongo cranks up his attack and responds with viper speed, until the two of them are spitting and whipping around at breakneck velocity. With a combined weight of, I imagine, well over 100 kilos, its rather scary to watch.
There is of course a plus side [there has to be one!] I mentioned earlier, Bongs is starting to act as her ears for her, and the two of them do bobble around the farm very much as a twosome nowadays. When we took them to the lake last Saturday night, he played around with the other more energetic dogs for hours, but kept coming back to find her and kiss her jowls or snuffle her ear, before scooting off again. A great time was had by all, until we left and whilst I was busy making sure no tails were caught in the boot, Bossy managed to shut it on my head. Stars, watering eyes…..and a serious sense of humour failure on my part.
I do find Bongo and Bee’s relationship fascinating. …and I think Pam , you might have to do some LOUD dog whispering for me in order that I can get a handle on Bongs CHAOTIC behavior.
“Skelem”, the trouble with gardeners & a worrying corner turned.
Once a week two guys come up from the factory and make a very half hearted attempt at cutting the front lawn. “Jan”, who is a slight 5ft 7ish man of about 57 ,but who looks about 87, because he looks remarkably like a pickled walnut, most particularly his face..his eyes are little shining slits in an otherwise crumpled facade. For some reason I can’t quite trust Jan, indeed everyone here calls him “SKELEM”, which translates as trickster/charlatan, as I am writing this, the image of “ Gollum”from Lord of the Rings , springs to mind!
Skelem`s, much younger assistant is called Villam,a young lad as smooth and brown as Skelem`s is treacly black and wrinkled. The two of them, generally try their level best to shirk any real work for the 8 or so hours that they are here. So it has come as something of a shock to them, to find that I have been working in the garden. .As I am now starting to get some idea of how I see it developing, they have for the past two weeks, had a list of tasks to get through, which has not pleased Skelem, and he tries everything in his book of tricks to evade what he has been asked to do.
This week, they were engaged in digging a trunk out of one of the three oval boarders that punctuate the lawn. I am no fan of formal garden beds and plan to see these disappear into lawn, and extend all the deep boarders around the edge of the front garden to create something of an “encroaching jungle look”.
I have been into Kak and purchased myself some, leather gauntlets that reach my elbows, a proper fork, spade and a MACHETE, …so that I can really get to grips with a large area of jungle woodland. All these tools have been clearly marked with my name, and I guard them fiercely as tools tend to go walkabout here. [Its not just Bongo who does the pilfering either!]
I was busy digging, [with Bee and Bongo’s assistance as usual] when Skelem and Villam appeared. Skelem can speak as much English as I can Afrikaans, so the conversation that ensued was based upon much reciprocal body language and a large dollop of assumption.
Eventually after both getting frustrated in Afrikaans: he said :
“Missus No work” and then continued in his own language, making digging actions and shaking his head sideways vigorously.
I pointed to myself saying:
“Missus likes to work in garden” ,why I always fall into pigeon English, I don’t know ,but it feels right…I don’t shout though!...... faced with their blank looks, I shook my head and returned to my digging. The two “gardeners” continued to stand and watch me, so that after about 5 minutes, when irritation was making my back crawl, I looked up and pointing to my eyes said:
“Missus does not like being watched!”, they looked confused, and so I shocked myself, by waving them away, saying
“Go work, go work!”… That’s it. I have turned something of a worrying corner…I am now your typical white farmers wife, barking commands at her employees, and throwing them cursory hand signals. It worked though, and they both scarpered.
When I went into the kitchen later for a drink, I asked Regina, why they stand and stare. She laughed and told me that they come and tell her that I am working in the garden, as though she can put a stop to it. She explained that it is completely abnormal behavior for either a black or white woman to work in the garden, it being more normal for them to stand around waving instructions [ I went a little pink faced here!]….I asked her to explain to Skelem & Villam, that the sight of me working in the garden is not going to change any time soon, and they must get used to it, also would she suggest that it is not in their interests to stand and stare. Regina has taken my request very seriously and said rather proudly, that she would be “very happy” to pass my instructions on.
Around the front garden we have many different types of palms. Three that stretch around 30ft into the air, these palms have a thick haystack of very dead, blond crispy leaves, under a small green crown. The haystack extends for about 7 ft down the trunk, and then becomes dead single spikes for another 14 ft, eventually becoming smooth palm trunk .Bossy has been told that the only way of tidying these is to set a match to the dead palm leaves and let them burn…but to be sure to have water on hand.
Once a week two guys come up from the factory and make a very half hearted attempt at cutting the front lawn. “Jan”, who is a slight 5ft 7ish man of about 57 ,but who looks about 87, because he looks remarkably like a pickled walnut, most particularly his face..his eyes are little shining slits in an otherwise crumpled facade. For some reason I can’t quite trust Jan, indeed everyone here calls him “SKELEM”, which translates as trickster/charlatan, as I am writing this, the image of “ Gollum”from Lord of the Rings , springs to mind!
Skelem`s, much younger assistant is called Villam,a young lad as smooth and brown as Skelem`s is treacly black and wrinkled. The two of them, generally try their level best to shirk any real work for the 8 or so hours that they are here. So it has come as something of a shock to them, to find that I have been working in the garden. .As I am now starting to get some idea of how I see it developing, they have for the past two weeks, had a list of tasks to get through, which has not pleased Skelem, and he tries everything in his book of tricks to evade what he has been asked to do.
This week, they were engaged in digging a trunk out of one of the three oval boarders that punctuate the lawn. I am no fan of formal garden beds and plan to see these disappear into lawn, and extend all the deep boarders around the edge of the front garden to create something of an “encroaching jungle look”.
I have been into Kak and purchased myself some, leather gauntlets that reach my elbows, a proper fork, spade and a MACHETE, …so that I can really get to grips with a large area of jungle woodland. All these tools have been clearly marked with my name, and I guard them fiercely as tools tend to go walkabout here. [Its not just Bongo who does the pilfering either!]
I was busy digging, [with Bee and Bongo’s assistance as usual] when Skelem and Villam appeared. Skelem can speak as much English as I can Afrikaans, so the conversation that ensued was based upon much reciprocal body language and a large dollop of assumption.
Eventually after both getting frustrated in Afrikaans: he said :
“Missus No work” and then continued in his own language, making digging actions and shaking his head sideways vigorously.
I pointed to myself saying:
“Missus likes to work in garden” ,why I always fall into pigeon English, I don’t know ,but it feels right…I don’t shout though!...... faced with their blank looks, I shook my head and returned to my digging. The two “gardeners” continued to stand and watch me, so that after about 5 minutes, when irritation was making my back crawl, I looked up and pointing to my eyes said:
“Missus does not like being watched!”, they looked confused, and so I shocked myself, by waving them away, saying
“Go work, go work!”… That’s it. I have turned something of a worrying corner…I am now your typical white farmers wife, barking commands at her employees, and throwing them cursory hand signals. It worked though, and they both scarpered.
When I went into the kitchen later for a drink, I asked Regina, why they stand and stare. She laughed and told me that they come and tell her that I am working in the garden, as though she can put a stop to it. She explained that it is completely abnormal behavior for either a black or white woman to work in the garden, it being more normal for them to stand around waving instructions [ I went a little pink faced here!]….I asked her to explain to Skelem & Villam, that the sight of me working in the garden is not going to change any time soon, and they must get used to it, also would she suggest that it is not in their interests to stand and stare. Regina has taken my request very seriously and said rather proudly, that she would be “very happy” to pass my instructions on.
Around the front garden we have many different types of palms. Three that stretch around 30ft into the air, these palms have a thick haystack of very dead, blond crispy leaves, under a small green crown. The haystack extends for about 7 ft down the trunk, and then becomes dead single spikes for another 14 ft, eventually becoming smooth palm trunk .Bossy has been told that the only way of tidying these is to set a match to the dead palm leaves and let them burn…but to be sure to have water on hand.
Top of the palms "Before"The trouble with palm trees:
Moses was adamant that Bossy should not set fire to the palms, and kept repeating “No Bossy,No Bossy” and wildly shaking his head. Bossy ignored him and carried on,
Moses was adamant that Bossy should not set fire to the palms, and kept repeating “No Bossy,No Bossy” and wildly shaking his head. Bossy ignored him and carried on,
Moses was positioned directly under the first palm, …with the hose on full stretch [our water is back on now!].as Bossy lit it
…in 5 seconds, hungry orange flames were licking up the trunk, jumping from the spikes upwards towards the haystack, soot and dust was beginning to fly everywhere, and the horrific vibration of crackling fire rifled through the air. Once the flames reached the dried haystack they took control, and soon a massive ball of hungry flames was spinning and roaring .Within another 30 seconds, flames were leaping a further 10ft into the air, seeing the green fronds off with a sizzle, the heat and noise was unbearable. 
Moses was squirting for dear life, but the fire ball was an unstoppable train, blazing debris began dripping from the top and cascading onto the vegetation below spreading sparks everywhere and setting that alight.
Moses was covered in soot and water from having to stand so close and hold his arm and the hose almost upright to reach as high as possible [not high enough to save the fresh green fronds on the top!]..It was all over in five minutes and we are left with a tall smoldering and blackened trunk, with several black spikes where there were once green palm leaves. When circumstance allowed, Moses just shook his white beanie hat [now black] and cleaned himself down, rubbing charcoal stripes down his stained and sodden Pangbourne College T-shirt.
Bossy was convinced that this was a successful treatment and that this palm will re grow, without giving Moses time to draw breath he set to the second of the palm monsters.
Once again within seconds the entire tree was burning like a roman candle.
The palms "After"Through the trees and in the wilderness beyond, I noticed a bakkie careering from the direction of our neighbour’s farm; it then skidded to a halt by the side of our water dams. Christo [our neighbour] leapt into the garden looking troubled.”I saw flames from my house” he shrieked by way of introducing himself…then looking up at the burning palm…. “Don’t you like the palms?”. Bossy explained what he was doing, and Christo remained very tight lipped. Here are some pictures of what was a very unsettling display of how fire can tear through dried vegetation.
I have no idea, if these two gracious if untidy palms will survive, but will keep you posted. My sense of logic tells me, that although a very severe approach; palms do suffer natural “burning” in the wild, from brush fires and survive, so we shall keep our fingers crossed for them. I will resist the third of the tall palms being treated in this way, it stands very close to a huge rubber tree, and I don’t want to even imagine the ensuing smell and smog from the fall out of that! Having exercised his impetuous nature once again, Bossy left Moses to tidy up, clearly Moses had been pushed to the limits of his tolerance as once he was quite happy that all remains of any heat were out of both palms, he retired, covered in soot and filthy water, to his rooms, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon
I have no idea, if these two gracious if untidy palms will survive, but will keep you posted. My sense of logic tells me, that although a very severe approach; palms do suffer natural “burning” in the wild, from brush fires and survive, so we shall keep our fingers crossed for them. I will resist the third of the tall palms being treated in this way, it stands very close to a huge rubber tree, and I don’t want to even imagine the ensuing smell and smog from the fall out of that! Having exercised his impetuous nature once again, Bossy left Moses to tidy up, clearly Moses had been pushed to the limits of his tolerance as once he was quite happy that all remains of any heat were out of both palms, he retired, covered in soot and filthy water, to his rooms, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the afternoon
The trouble with tenants
For those who have asked, our tenants are still at Beacon Cottage in dear old Blighty, and had been unnervingly quiet for a number of weeks, until our managing agent sent us a copy email from them, this was prompted by our arranging for the pool to be “de –winterized”,[as stipulated in our tenancy agreement].
They complained that once the winter cover was removed by the pool servicing Company::
The pool was the colour of pea soup.[ no great surprise there!]
That there were golf balls in it ,[ being adjacent to the first tee, this is an geographical hazard].
That there was a sunken child’s boat at the bottom, in the silt, [thank the lord it wasn’t a sunken child!]
And horror of horrors, two ROTHMANS packets were found floating around…[which I pray that they fished out and dried, although they failed to mention if they were full !!!].
This is the nature of tenants that we have aquired, and it is incredibly wearing .Those of you who have run a pool, will know only to well, the major task of “de winterizing”. where despite a leashed down winter cover, the pool manages to act like a black hole during the winter,magnatising most of the contents of the garden, that are whirling around, into its progressively murky depths.
I couldn’t resist responding over buoyantly, pointing out that traditionally the pool has at its murky depths a range of big balls and little balls, half the compost heap, the odd plastic garden lounger, maybe a sun brolly, a perished face mask, the odd flipper, cartons of Marlboro and Rothmans, empty wine and beer bottles but usually an abundance of gin bottles![housewife’s tipple!] .A selection of carcasses from last year’s barbeques, a raft of frog spawn, and an army of grotesquely large chimera like toads, that have grown fat and “odd” from overwintering in the increasingly chemically pea soup, and who usually take us months to hunt down and exterminate. Indeed, if these creatures were not seen during the recent clear out, then our tenants have every reason to be afraid…. very afraid!
All has been quiet since my reply, and I hope that they are now reaping the benefits of lounging around a marvelously sparklingly, squeaky pool and their enjoyment is not dampened by shocking memories of its post summer condition, or worries of the chimera toads lurking in the yew hedges waiting to ambush.
School hair cuts, finals, revision , birthdays and the trouble with social networks
Good news! Little spoke with me from school during the week and was so bouncy. The happiest I have heard him since he has been at Bishops, he had just spent a happy few hours learning how to make a slide show on the computer and send me a wonderful little clip with accompanying music. He is also most anxious to see us in Cape Town this weekend, informing me that his hair is getting longer and there is NO WAY that he intends to suffer the shame of another school haircut…So comforting to know WHY you are wanted! Quite apart from seeing Little, I am also in most urgent need of “the city”,so we intend to leave as usual at 6.00a.m on Friday.
My poor Jell is hanging onto sanity,[along with all her other Co-medic finalists] as a result of too many hours hard at work revising, and writing, always writing, I catch her for fleeting conversations in between tube or bus stops, juggling her precious hours between revision lectures and tutorials and library sessions, where she prefers to work.
I hope that I manage to impart exuberant confidence and a little joy. It’s so hard being this far away from her, as the moment of her finals lurch towards her at breakneck speed, and when I know her mind is focused only on work and the nagging self doubt that always hounds her at these times.
Tommy has thoughts only for his birthday celebrations, a bunch of his buddies are spending the bank holiday Sun/Mon with him. I really don’t want to know what their plans are, but imagine Newbury may need to put some kind of general warning out for the weekend.
Finn is now through his first exam week and looking forward to a weeks break before the next tranche start…god luck Darling.
Huge thanks for all the emails and Skype’s and telephone conversations, since my last post. I was very tickled by SuperLoops and Taz`s emails and Vicki you have been a life saver as always. Belated birthday wishes for Loops.
“TAGGED” an explanation
Please forgive the millions of ‘friend requests that were sent out from my email account…they went to EVERYONE on my contact list…having possessed an email account for around 8 years now, the list runs into many hundred!
I had never heard of “TAGGED”, but received a “friend request” from Jeroen, Bossy`s nephew, so I checked the “yes I am Jeroen`s friend “box, and was taken to another menue, which infuriatingly asked me a series of questions which I half heartedly acknowledged, clearly unaware that I had authorized “Tagged” to plunder my entire contact list and hijack it. .I have just started to actively use Face book and find that complicated enough, so I really had no intention of enrolling in another social networking site. [Apologies Roony].
I thought little more of this, until I opened my email and had 22 replies from people very kindly saying yes they wanted to be my friend, the next time there were 32 responses, some from people that I have only had business contact with [YIKES]…I am excruciatingly embarrassed as looking at the “Tagged” site ,I realize that by not paying sufficient attention, I have managed to rope everyone on my contact list into something that they may not be happy to be involved in. If you haven’t checked the box yet. Please just delete the email. Whilst I am extremely happy to be Rooney’s friend on Tagged, I don’t expect everyone else to be mine!
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"Little" looking rather big compared to his team mates!We have just returned from a great weekend in Cape Town with Little, and it felt so good to be able to watch him play in two school rugby matches in Saturday morning, we also managed to get out with his friend Stephen and his parents on Friday night. so I was able to apologize to them for the state of their sons face [ quad accident!],and inspect the damage myself….still quite an impressive injury, but definitely a great deal better than when he left us over the May day weekend.
If anyone reads OK,[whoops it might be Hello], The Winchester Mansions are being featured in it this Tuesday edition, one of their people is doing an article on Cape Town, and it doesn’t surprise me to find that she stayed at our favorite hotel, I gather from Sam, the lovely Manager at the Mansions, that the hotel is to be featured .
Our return flights to the UK are booked,we depart on the 25th June ,Little,Jessie ,Tommy and I will return to South Africa on the 9th July. Bossy remaining for an extra week to get in some golf and catch up with business in Holland.
I am so looking forward to our trip..Little is already planning to decend on Cheam school and is desperate to catch up with as many of his friends as possible.
My Love to all, special kisses for my dear friend Dottie, who has a challenging journey ahead,and who`s news,has put my own idle grizzling into very stark perspective.
Thinking of you all.
Kisses on the lips
DawnXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
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