TWO things have happened that had me so troubled and bogged
down that I bowed out a little from the blogosphere. But you might as well be
told about them now. We lost Eva to hip dysplasia. I think when you rescue dogs
you never know, and this was a painful reminder of our own not-knowing and the
frailty of our best intentions. She had to be let go, or else her suffering
would have only gotten worse. My pain was immeasurable, loads of heaving sobs
in bed, in the shower when I could be bothered to have one. No sleep, no food,
eventually…barbiturates. I am no good at these things.
I take brother dog with me everywhere. We have each other. We take drives and go to work. I tell him he is smart and handsome. He is. He tries to get along with the kittens. He tolerates their cuddles and eyes them suspiciously. He doesn’t trust their energy and cheerfulness. He sighs a lot. He is too big to play with them.
I take brother dog with me everywhere. We have each other. We take drives and go to work. I tell him he is smart and handsome. He is. He tries to get along with the kittens. He tolerates their cuddles and eyes them suspiciously. He doesn’t trust their energy and cheerfulness. He sighs a lot. He is too big to play with them.
Also, the farm burnt down. To cinders. The house and
buildings were saved. All the animals survived but there was not a speck of
green to be seen. The fire started three farms down, and spread about 100kms
from there. By the time it reached Natal
it was considered ‘unstoppable by human intervention’. The forever pasture smouldered, the
field-shelter was laid to waste.
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| The forever pasture and favourite tree burnt |
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| What's left of the field shelter |
The horses were shocked and bewildered. For
days after the fire tree stumps smouldered, smoke hung in the air. Soot blew
into the house via the gaps between the floor and the door, open windows,
clinging to shoes. The worst part was the smell, the smell of burning. The
neighbour lost ten horses. We needed to phone the doctor to get a script for
our brave groom with singed facial hair, puffy red eyes and chest pain. He
recovered 100%. We were desperately afraid – we’d have to buy in loads of
grass, and quick. It was incredibly hard to find decent grass at the end of
winter. We managed, in the end. We paid through our teeth for lucerne.
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| Horses and Adolf immediately after the fire. |
The grass is up again. New grass. Amazing. My little garden
is thriving. The shoots are turning into onions again, weapons-grade a usual.
No less. Corn is growing in the vegetable garden space, there is lettuce and
rhubarb in the ground. There is tarragon, basil, rosemary and oregano. The begonias and violets are out, the jasmine
has grown, the day lilies have taken over. A beautiful lily has come up and so
has one lonely bush of marigold with wonderful deep orange flowers. The place
teems with new life. The poppies have not returned, they are stubbornly still
in the ground somewhere. I think they are too fragile for fires and loss.
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| Carrots? |
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| Horses graze on new grass |
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| Remember Yatan? |
And then it got even more lush:
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| December, mid-day heat |
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| Masu, theeerrreeeee! |
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| Begonia, basil, onions some pink flower bushy thing |
I adopted a gray kitten and named him Yoshimoto. His litter
mates’ adoptions fell through and we rescued them. I have no idea what we’ll do
with these two extra bundles of life. Feed them, love them…
I flew off to Cape
Town on business, I ate more than I should have got
very little sleep and I travelled on plane, train, catamaran and rental car. It
was amazing. I lived in the fairest Cape for
four years as a student and my heart still recognises it as home. So I went
home for the first time in six long years. I love you Cape Town.
I saw Uriah Heep, live in concert. They played outdoors on a
beautiful escarpment. It was amazing. New
grass was growing while old music hummed around the intermittently rocky and
then grassy spaces.
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| What a night! |
We said goodbye to our first groom, he headed back to Zimbabwe to
live with his new wife and their brand new child. New life, everywhere. This is
the fifth year our living harbour has been in operation. Since 2009. Amazing.
For the New Years Eve I cooked gammon in ginger ale, and lamb in wine. I was joined by my oldest friend in this world – from that soviet-looking era, he calls it a ‘poor white farm school’ – with his delightful girlfriend who put on a fire poi performance. Kyle and Tristan was there too. It was a good time.
For the New Years Eve I cooked gammon in ginger ale, and lamb in wine. I was joined by my oldest friend in this world – from that soviet-looking era, he calls it a ‘poor white farm school’ – with his delightful girlfriend who put on a fire poi performance. Kyle and Tristan was there too. It was a good time.
On February the 13th I get to see Rodriguez live
in Gauteng.
In case you don’t know: Rodriguez is a South American rocker who rose to
considerable fame here in South
Africa. Recently they made a documentary
about him, where South Africans went to look for him in South America, they
found him… shortly after a rash of concerts were sold in SA. Good for him, I
hope it lines his pockets for a while. We love you Sugarman.
I am starting an art class this month. Weekly and for two
hours at a time. I am as excited as a child. My application inquiry read:
complete novice with no talent would like to join art classes.
My favourite thing to cook this year has been plain-old
breakfast and a delightful peasant stew I made with lamb leftover from the New
Year’s roast. If you don’t know how to make potato bake with some milk and a
packet of brown onion soup ask me how, it is amazing. My favourite read has
been Lisa Klaussmann’s Tigers in Red
Weather. I have discovered turquoise and the joys of frivolously buying shoes.
I have bought plum coloured eyeliner.
I am turning 30 this month and I have lived in spite of
everything. Happy New Year bloggers, may this year gleam as brightly for you as
it does for me.
PS: Live in spite of everything, it’s the only way. And
also: I’m back J
