Sunshine and Shadow

Ten Favourite Smells...

2012-01-26T22:13:00.003+02:00

“It was very pleasant to savour its aroma, for smells have the power to evoke the past, bringing back sounds and even other smells that have no match in the present.”

"Like Water for Chocolate" ― Laura Esquivel

I love the smell of fragrant flowers, baking cinnamon buns, that sweet clean scent of a just bathed baby. Funny, isn’t it how good smells are a big element in our sensation of comfort?

There’s so much of the pleasure lost today – fruit that’s been irradiated and in cold storage for weeks doesn’t have that intense, fruity aroma of a vine ripened, sun warmed granadilla. And let’s not talk about those perfect, beautiful tunnel grown flowers with no smell at all… so disappointing, they may as well be plastic.

Of all the five senses, smell is most linked to our memories, our past; but best smells do change, our “noses” develop, and our olfactory abilities can be trained. I have many, much-loved scents although I don’t know when or how they all became so special, but pleasant smells are very personal and we all have our picks. The following ten in no particular order, are my favourites …

Freshly baked bread
Frangipani Flowers (Plumeria)
Lavender and beeswax wood polish
Approaching summer storms (smell of rain)
A bowl of freshly picked, sun ripened lemons
Roses – (preferable dark red Damask roses)
Vanilla
Fresh brewed coffee
Eucalyptus (Blue Gum)
Ripe Cantaloupe (Rock melon, Spanspek)

These are mine. What have I left out? What are your favourites?

Kalahari Dreaming…

2012-01-24T14:11:00.003+02:00

I never knew my father; his shadowy presence prowled around the edges of my consciousness. Once or twice, we met. Central to the plot of my own existence, lies the mythology of my father’s life. Why would I want to write? Would I have this connection to Africa if I hadn’t been carried away by his books? On a lazy L A Sunday, I would be lost on the shores of Lake Nyasa, plunged in the hot white sands of the Kalahari or enclosed, on a dark, clear night, in the circle of a bushman fire. My imagination was fed by the fierce pull of Africa. All the possibilities imagined in the mysterious, pulsating places of this continent offered obscurity to a stranger. Remember, this was long before the personal computer, the Internet, the mobile phone, satellites… People in Africa could and did vanish, resurfacing later in another place, as someone other.

Lake Nyasa

This is to those of you, confined in the cold, impenetrable gloom of the Northern winter as you wait for the spring. I’ve been there, in the soundless chill just after dawn; my footsteps silent in new snow, seeking the comfort and the warmth of some cozy shelter. January and February creep along in an agony of cold, grey vagueness; with the enjoyments of the holiday season over, spring seems so very far away… but it is coming and our summer is really a promise to you of its eminent arrival.

The Serengeti Plain - Tanzania

How can I convey the magnificence of the light, the warmth, the very huge-ness of the sky overhead? The smell of the summer rain long before it falls; the steam rising from the savannah as it passes. Then, as the earth collectively breathes a sigh of relief for the release from the dryness and dust, thousands of tiny living creatures explode into sound. And the lungs of the world breathe in and out…

Images today courtesy of Wikipedia

Famous...what good is that?

2012-01-22T20:10:00.003+02:00

My father was a writer… He was famous – in an obscure way – although better known for other things. His are not the best or greatest works I’ve ever read, although some of his books are considered classics. But as I said, he was famous for other things…

Writing stuff down – thoughts, emotions, lists and dreams - has been part of my life ever since I learned to write, which was later than most kids. But growing as a writer involves plenty of practice to accomplish. Sounds pretty basic; I never realized how crucial this step is to developing a “voice” until I began writing regularly. Getting started was difficult – I had writers block before I wrote the first word – but there’s a lot to be said for pushing through. With practice, the gap between the topics and the passions begins closing and most of the time words come readily.

I think developing as a person isn’t very different… Assuming you want to change some aspect of your character; let’s say, become more assertive, then practicing that behavior until it’s comfortable, seemed a good way to start. So I did.

My bugbear was always a lack of confidence… Guilty of all the standard over-compensation dodges, often aloof and arrogant; I must have been a real pain in the a*s for others! Growing older (or is it just growing up?) has taken away that fearful insecurity and a realistic self-image does a lot to help nurture confidence. After all, “why be a second rate version of somebody else, when you can be a first rate version of yourself”, can’t apply when you don’t know what version you are!

And the moral of the story is?

If you are holding down a job, pursuing a degree, or perfecting a craft, you are already somewhat disciplined! So? The world’s your clam (oysters to clams? – that’s inflation for you). Just divert some of that seemingly, small stash of discipline toward your problem, over and over and over again; and then one day *poof* the problem’s gone! And that includes the mess inside the kitchen junk drawer!

And… Never underestimate the power of a good editor!

Protest Internet Censorship with WordPress...

2012-01-18T16:36:00.000+02:00

Join Wikipedia, WordPress and all the other online communities who are blacked out in protest today against SOPA!

Go to WordPress and add your name to the protest, if you're American; or sign the international petition (scroll to the bottom of the page) to the US State Department, if you're not. Together, we can make a difference!

Wikipedia to black out; will go dark for 24 hours...

2012-01-17T20:28:00.002+02:00

Don’t Let It Happen!

The Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) – may look good from far, but is far from good! Google, Facebook, Yahoo, Twitter, eBay, AOL and others have all spoken out against the proposed legislation and its threat to the Internet…and now Wikipedia! Please bear with me people, THIS IS IMPORTANT! It has the potential to affect us all and although I'm politically neutral, it is important that we stand up for basic human freedoms and the freedom of expression.

For some time now, I have had the Support Mozilla link in the upper left side of this page.You may not be American, and English may not be your home language; this doesn’t matter! If you use the Internet, this legislation will affect you…Read more here at Time Magazine...

http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,2104586,00.html#ixzz1jirpzbdZ

The latest, on-line giant to get involved in the protest against SOPA and PIPA, is Wikipedia. Tomorrow, Wednesday, the 18th; Wikipedia will black out the English language version of its website for twenty-four hours. Many other online communities such as Reddit, Boing Boing and others will be joining the protest.

Although Wikipedia’s articles are neutral, its existence is not. The following excerpt is from The Wikipedia Open Letter…

“We depend on a legal infrastructure that makes it possible for us to operate. And we depend on a legal infrastructure that also allows other sites to host user-contributed material, both information and expression… Where it can be censored without due process, it hurts the speaker, the public, and Wikimedia… We support everyone’s right to freedom of thought and freedom of expression. We think everyone should have access to educational material on a wide range of subjects, even if they can’t pay for it…!”

http://wikimediafoundation.org/wiki/English_Wikipedia_anti-SOPA_blackout

Bookmark with Facebook, share on Twitter, share on Reddit.com, share on Digg.com.

Do what you can to make your voice heard.

With all the social media available, just take a few minutes to put in a word, somewhere, even if you’re not American, in support of a free Internet. Imagine, for a moment, what life would be like for all of us if we were to lose this remarkable resource…

WordPress…I Slay the Lion…

2012-01-14T20:58:00.004+02:00

I can get myself into tricky situations! There were times over the last eight days or so where I seriously began to doubt my sanity. I mean, every kid over ten can build their own website – so what was I trying to prove? For my purposes and to tell a good story, M and I have assigned our own hall-of-fame status to five top website platforms out there, and WP became the lion.


King of the Beasts

I wasn’t even sure that my poor old PC would survive...but it did and today’s post proves I’m still here. And the men in white coats never even appeared in my neighborhood, so looks like the heat’s off. Coolest of all is that I built my first website, by myself and I’m waaay over 14…take that, all you junior internet geniuses.

If you’re at all interested, pop on over to MozimaxWeb and have a squiz at the WordPress entries, Parts A and B and then the step-by-step... err... steps, 1 through 6; aka the six steps to build a WordPress website. If I can do it, then anyone can and this is a written guide (with pictures) that I hope will help everyone from babies to baby-boomers build a website…assuming they need and want one.

Chobe River

Technology aside, M and I are busy with our new baby, http://wildmoz.com! The ultimate website for all things African, south of the great rivers (the Limpopo and the Zambezi); with an emphasis on wildlife management, conservation and the genuine African experience. We’ll be following the experiences of people on the ground who work with dangerous game every day; their passion for the land and the majestic animals that are their work. There’ll be some history – just the really juicy bits, awesome photos, exciting (true) stories, suggested reading and the occasional book review. As a collective, the families featured here have been living and working on this continent for generations and there are many engrossing stories, warm-hearted reflections, thrilling anecdotes, and astute insiders perceptions that we will share.

What http://wildmoz.com. won’t have is politics…Africa has had (and still has) enough comment, criticism and judgement to last an eternity and for some amazing reason the whole world feels free to do this. Well I’ve got news for you – we live here – along with more than a billion or so other native Africans, (as of November 2009, the total population of Africa was estimated at 1 billion)! And it’s a whole lot more complicated than anyone realizes, so please, leave politics out of it and just enjoy the safari…

Elephants Crossing the Chobe River…

2012-01-11T17:22:00.008+02:00

The project I wrote about here is almost ready to be revealed. Along with the completion of this particular venture, exciting possibilities have appeared; prospects that cannot go unheeded and I’ll be sharing more of these new paths before long.


Elephant - Zimbabwe

Sitting here, very close to the southernmost tip of Africa, the elephant doesn’t feature much in our local wildlife scene anymore. Back in the day (Oh, about 300 years ago) there were many elephants in the Cape. Human expansion over centuries has almost eliminated elephants here, and today there are only a few known specimens of Cape elephants living near Knysna and Addo in the Eastern Cape.


Elephants Crossing the Chobe River - Botswana

Fortunately, for us and the elephant, there are other parts of Africa more tempting for elephant habitation… here’s a glimpse of what life can be like if you’re an elephant, without pesky humans plowing up the natural bush, paving over the savannah, sticking buildings everywhere and just generally getting in the way.

Uluguru Mountains - Tanzania

Imagine, having a whole slice of river all to yourself – and your other twenty or so relatives. Mind you, if I had a choice, I’d pick this lovely pool and these pretty little falls in the Uluguru Mountains, Tanzania… Mmm, and not so much family; at least not to bathe with! Imagine, after the heat and dust of the plains below, this is waiting...

Anyone for a Swim?

The picture of the Chobe River is too small - I have purposely selected "large" for these photos so that you can click on them to see the elephants (and the scenery) better.

A Whole New Year…

2012-01-06T18:05:00.001+02:00

After an unusually full holiday season, the beaches and the roads are emptying as the holidaying multitudes head back to daily routine and into the promise of the New Year.

Marking one of the highlights of the season; this short hiatus between the old and new; the past year can be weighed by the entries in its diary, lending impetus to change and growth. I so love this time of year with all the reflections on the year just gone and the potential of the year unfolding before me. I love the new diary in my hands; the blank pages thrill me with anticipation and as I transfer important dates and anniversaries, I find wonderful surprises, accomplishments forgotten in the bustle of the busy year just gone.

One New Year’s Eve, in Scotland; I think 2008, I was sent a quote (see below) that has impacted on me ever since… The simple thought that potential could exist in my life was a 180 degree shift from where I had been and opened a whole new world of opportunity. Everything, anything became possible and as the reality sank in I was freed from a lifetime of self-contempt and all the damaging emotions that come with being in that place. I still walk through the rooms, planning improvements, contemplating changes…But now it is with a pleasurable anticipation...

“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room-by-room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential.”

~ Ellen Goodman

An Irish Blessing for the New Year

2011-12-31T21:45:00.001+02:00

The auld farmer's New Year's gift...

May the New Year bring…

The warmth of home and hearth to you.

The cheer and goodwill of friends to you,

The hope of a childlike heart to you,

The joy of a thousand angels to you,

The love of the Son and God's peace to you.

Wishing you a blessed and peaceful 2012

The auld farmer's New Year's gift to his auld Mare Maggie by Richard Ansdell - Wikipedia

Merry Christmas...

2011-12-25T22:59:00.001+02:00

May your Christmas be wonderful and bright...

Merry Christmas Everyone...

What Do Doctors, Mongoose(s) and Weather Have in Common?

2011-12-15T21:42:00.001+02:00

This was Wednesday’s update, only it’s a little later than intended. That’s out the window now, having spent the last two days being completely indulgent and lazy. Monday, I had oral surgery (involving stitches) and was back at home just after lunch time…So far, so good. Where this story gets wobbly, is the bit where I have a nap instead of writing. Tuesday I was back at the Doc so that he could admire his work. M and I did some Christmas shopping and were home in the early afternoon, plenty of time to write, perfect time to have another nap…So I did. As for Wednesday, well I started writing (but didn't finish) ‘cause Wednesday’s weather was a gift and I was mongoose watching too!

Hiding...Until Next Week...

Living in the southern hemisphere gives us Christmas in the middle of summer…Just like the Australians; we have heat and dust instead of snow and cold. By this time last year, our rainy season was over and desert days had replaced the greenery and colour of flower season. This year we are having a cool and somewhat slow start to the languid, sultry days of high summer. Wednesday was foggy grey and overcast with gentle showers on and off.

Our crazy birds and other wildlife were playing in the birdbath and the mongoose mama and her two babies were all over the veranda. We have a curtain of heavy-duty, deep-sea fishnet that hangs over the front of the veranda, shielding the house from the worst of the sun. The small mongooses were playing in the folds and scampering up and down like monkeys while mama kept a lookout on the steps. The babies have been around for the last three months (since very small) and they are almost fully grown but we haven’t seen them for a couple of weeks. We thought that they had grown too big for climbing around and hide n’ seek but the unexpected coolness must have made them playful and they entertained us for ages. These are the Slender Mongoose (Galerella sanguinea), about fifteen inches long and a twelve-inch tail and they live in the brush and scrub outside the garden.

The picture is from my old-friend, (thank you) Wikipedia; unfortunately our long-suffering camera died a violent death when it leapt from the office table and hurled itself to the ground, damaging the internals as well as cracking the screen. Wouldn’t you know, not three weeks later, we get a wildlife photographers dream…Our house has full length glass doors all around the veranda; the main living area, office and one bedroom each have a glass wall. The Mongoose babies sat on their haunches (like Meerkats) peering into the house, or so we thought, but they probably caught sight of their reflections in the glass doors and were actually staring at themselves. Too delightful! M could have taken dozens of photos but for the dead camera…

I sure hope Santa is reading...

Food for Thought...

2011-12-07T19:35:00.000+02:00

High-tech tomatoes.

Mysterious milk.

Supersquash.

Are we supposed to eat this stuff?

Or is it going to eat us?

Annita Manning

Is It or Isn't It?

2011-12-05T18:04:00.000+02:00

When I asked in my last post if this blog was schizophrenic, it was an honest question. I so love writing! Well I better, I sure am doing a lot of it. Even when my thoughts are all over the place, there are words inside trying to get out. Then thinking about the original purpose of all these words (ancient family history), I woke up! My problem isn’t so much the content; I’ll get it together eventually. No, the real problem here is organization! Hmm, a re-occurring issue? As soon as time allows, the category labels must be tamed.

So organized, so peaceful looking*

Here on the west coast, the weather, having been cool to the point of cold right through spring suddenly zoomed up to HOT yesterday. Sheesh, summer had arrived and was beating everyone up! Not for long. Opening the door to the garden this morning early, I was met with a blast of cold wind…I guess summer didn’t like his welcome…

Out in the bay, bulk carriers, the size of a small country, bounced around on the choppy water. Birds, landing for a drink, were up-ended into the birdbath by the gusts… Who knew? Did it ever occur to you that this can happen to birds? Fortunately, the birdbath is pretty shallow. Everything was back on track by noon time, (no, the birds straightened up fine in no time), hazy sunshine was evident again, the wind was down and regular scheduling had been resumed…

*Painting by Carl Larsson-courtesy of Wikipedia

Nothing a Cookie Can't Fix...

2011-12-01T21:00:00.000+02:00

In the greater scheme of things, being busy ranks pretty high on my list of priorities. Now that I’m up to my ponytail in our website projects and gainful employment has suddenly arrived, the rhythm of work is becoming addictive. Along with a renewed sense of purpose, I’ve discovered a craving for research (or knowledge)? What…ever… But this brings me to the point of this post. Looking back over old entries, life has moved on in many ways and the old categories just don’t all seem to fit; does this make my blog schizophrenic?

Perpetual Motion - Its All in The Mind?

My life, my way, so what’s the problem? I guess there’s been some broadening of horizons over the last few years. Somehow there is so much to say. The old interests with a lot of new ones like fashion, corpocracy, lifestyles, finance, aging, minimalism, and getting really computer savvy as in web development and content writing. Add to all of that, every old category listed in the labels on the right; no wonder this journal doesn’t know where it’s going…

Back in the distant days…another life…another place, getting the words down gave my thoughts structure. I’m hoping this will work the same magic again. But, hey, no radical protests here although we can all contribute to improving things. Speaking of improving things, who can’t use a tasty, healthy (ish) treat? Here’s a family favorite, from long ago.

I copied this recipe while we were in Missouri but I can’t remember who from (we're talking 1980 here). Very, very Yummy…

Yummy Oatmeal Cookies

About 4 dozen

1/2 cup (1 stick) softened butter

3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup all-purpose flour (wholemeal is great)

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)

3 cups Oats, uncooked - not instant

1 cup raisins

Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, beat butter and sugars on medium speed of electric mixer until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats and raisins; mix well.

Drop dough by rounded tablespoonful onto un-greased cookie sheets.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until light golden brown;10 to 12 minutes til slightly darker but watch that they don't get too brown. Cool 1 minute on cookie sheets; remove to wire rack. Cool completely. Store tightly covered.

VARIATIONS: Stir in 1 cup chopped nuts. Substitute 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips for raisins; omit cinnamon. 1 cup of coconut can be substituted for one cup of the oats.

These are wonderful with a frothy coffee...

My favorite remedy, unless there's chocolate...

Something to Remember...

2011-11-28T18:32:00.000+02:00

Judy Garland

Always be a first-rate version of yourself,

instead of a second-rate version of somebody else.

Judy Garland

Everyone has a story…

2011-11-26T22:49:00.000+02:00

We have several, but one, little known although quite typical of Baby boomers, stands out. It’s ironic that the same generation that includes Bill Gates and the late Steve Jobs, also includes me, Anne, Tom, Marcy, and countless other perfectly normal, intelligent people, who describe themselves as technophobic. M on the other hand, would have been right at home in Silicon Valley’s heyday; he embraces technology with a passion. But Facebook? And Twitter? Well… we’ll see.

It took me a few years and an expensive six-month course in the basics of computing before I would even switch on a PC. Even then, I only used it as a word processor. After moving to another country and getting back into the work force, I graduated to the Internet. And then we came home to Africa…We left the UK just as the Economic Crisis – America’s old news – was impacting heavily on the rest of the world.

Slow...cautious...so...do I look fast to you?

Fast forward… Now selling property, limping along with the rest of the world, waiting for The Recovery, we realize age will be catching up with us one of these days. With this fact hanging over our heads, we have been exploring methods to make money in ways that are smarter, not harder. So M built another website for us – more commercial– all about The Magical Mythical Kingdom of Free. I write about all of our adventures and misadventures in Cyberland and how M started webbing back in the day and other important stuff to know if you need a website. Wanting to give readers some entertainment as well as information, I decided (as an Internet virgin) to actually make a website myself. So I’m going to write a tutorial there to tell how it’s done. How to build a website from scratch while I’m writing! I’ve never done anything like this before – I have this Blog on Blogger that I set up (wow, did I ever think I was smart) years ago. But, and here’s the rub, Google Blogger just about does everything for you. Building a website is another story altogether! Scary…I Know! Come and enjoy the bumpy ride!

South African "Danger Ahead" Sign

Remember, I’m the non-techie here and M is not going to help. This one I’ll be doing all by myself. Step by step, I’ll share everything that happens, describe exactly what it takes. You’ll know how easy or how hard it is, for me with my almost non-existent, skill set. Anyone who wants to follow, every time I update the saga I’ll post it here and if you’re laughing so hard you can’t read…well, you’re welcome! Remember, laughter is the best medicine. And please don’t forget, I offer the simple minded – not for professionals – method of web building! KISS! (Keep it Simple, Stupid)

Happy Thanksgiving, America...

2011-11-24T18:08:00.000+02:00

None is more impoverished than the one who has no gratitude.

Gratitude is a currency that we can mint for ourselves,

and spend without fear of bankruptcy.

F. De Witt van Amburgh

Can't find image link - can anyone help?

Age Defying Action...

2011-11-23T18:42:00.000+02:00

Jeanne Moreau 2006

Age does not protect you from love...

But love, to some extent, protects you from age...

Jeanne Moreau

Image of Jeanne Moreau courtesy of Wikipedia

Starting Over... A Short History...

2011-11-21T12:47:00.000+02:00

I was born in South Africa and lived here until I was nine, with my grandparents. At nine, I was sent to California to join my mom in Hollywood (she was a 20th Century Fox actress). There I went to school; junior high, high school, ending at UCLA. Before I completed university, I was in a car accident; after I recovered, I used the insurance settlement to move back to SA: Back in SA, (re)met and married M (born in SA), we farmed, M made handcrafted furniture and we had two sons. We then spent a year in the US (Missouri, Oklahoma) while my husband studied agriculture. Back to SA to the farm, together we ran various projects, opened a gift shop, started a plant nursery, did property development, had another two sons, opened a ceramics studio, created a boutique hotel, had two antique shops, M built computers, I made hammocks. When the children left home, we packed our lives into a crate and moved to the UK where we were homeless for a time, worked in various jobs and ran our own tearoom and antique shop in Scotland. Back in Africa, we explored all over, settling on the incredible Cape west coast, where we are now. Together M and I made many decisions; choices that took us along “the road less traveled”.

Fifteen years ago, we lived in vastly different circumstances than we do now. Life then, a hundred-year old mansion filled with antiques to a seaside cottage now. In between (the last fifteen years), we have “started over” several times, been homeless (through no fault of our own), lived (slept) on London buses for some weeks, owned our own businesses, been robbed twice, worked for others, and lived in a garage. Except for the bus (and it had its moments too) and the robberies, we enjoyed most of the adventures…Scary but when you realize that “you can do it” ordinary fear falls away and anything seems possible. Very empowering!

I know we’re not unique; our story is different but by no means, extraordinary. I write about it for these reasons. The first is to preserve our personal family history; this is mainly for our growing tribe of grandchildren – most of the story lives only in our memories as all our papers, family photographs, and memorabilia of previous generations were destroyed in one of the robberies. My family history exists only with myself and my mother; all the other family members are dead. M’s family history was contained in dozens and dozens of documents, deeds, books and pictures, also gone. Unfortunately, M’s family is fragmented and all the original protagonists are either dead or very nearly. In a family divided by feuds, jealousy, bitterness and acrimony and bound together in a destructive, polluted destiny, history has taken on various interpretations as suits each individuals' cause. With no axe to grind, having walked away a free man - the first in four generations - M (and I) would only like to record the important points, the bare facts, preserved for any future descendants who may be interested.

West Coast Weekend…Already?

2011-11-18T19:02:00.000+02:00

So much to tell… But first, more of the where before I get to the why’s and hows. We currently live on the dramatic coastline known as Africa’s Atlantic seaboard a.k.a. The Cape West Coast. It has history, atmosphere, beauty and adventure and boasts some of the most famous attractions Africa has to offer, starting with Table Mountain. The west coast begins just outside of Cape Town, stretching all the way northwards into Namibia as far as the Angolan border. We have made a home here in a tiny seaside village on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. On one side, Saint Helena Bay's white sandy, beaches, on the other, wheat fields and fertile croplands to the Cederberg Mountains in the north.

Southeast, lie the famed wine lands of the Cape but wine country is all around us, as climate changes occur, more land is planted to vineyards, olives and herbs. Wild flowers from here to Namaqualand and abundant wildlife, both on land and in water are characteristic of the region.

Flower season is coming to a close although there are still random patches of incredible colour. I seem to think that this year, the flowers have lasted longer – the official line is from July ‘til sometime in September but it all is very dependent on the rainfall each year. M snapped some pics of the ‘hood a few weeks ago. These photos feature pink, mauve and red flowers but there are also orange, yellow and white (mostly finished now) with the blues being rare. None of these have been planted but occur naturally in the dunes and plains. This dry and arid area (known as The Sandveld – the sand plain) is remarkably fertile and this is borne out by the abundance of wheat and potatoes that are harvested on local farms.

Have a wonderful weekend wherever you may be…

Woman...Visable, Invisable?

2011-11-13T18:47:00.000+02:00

Carmen Dell'Orefice (74 in 2005)

This has been rolling around in my head for a while, years actually. (Please forgive a little rant) When I started this journal, I was experiencing that feeling of invisibility that many women get with approaching middle age. Writing here helped me feel like I still had a voice – and with that voice – a face!

Now more and more women (of a certain age) are standing up (metaphorically) and demanding to be counted; the Internet has given us a platform, and the word-on-the-street is “I AM VISABLE”! Finally there are individuals out there saying, “this is us, this is what we look like – we mothers, sisters, wives, lovers, daughters – we are not invisible anymore”. These "ordinary" women are just confirming how "extraordinary" we all can be. I want to link to two brave, ground-breaking women who have addressed this issue, each with her own brand of flair and style. Click on these links to see -

"Your Faces Through The Ages"

and "Visible Monday" -

Because these blogs put such a positive spin on what has been largely a taboo subject (aging), I wish I had seen them several years ago when I suddenly realized - one particularly awful morning (with shock, amazement, horror and trauma) - that I was “old”. I was 51 then and working in an office in London where the average age was probably 26 and this sudden awakening totally floored me. Being homesick, missing my children and SAD (seasonal affective disorder) might have made it worse but there it was – just plain ugly! Had there been any visible examples of sassy, smart, attractive, capable, vital women around, I think this realization would have been a lot less traumatic. But all the really visible, role models were young, anorexic, androgynous girls, (and apparently, in at least one instance, a boy).

Popular media has much to answer for but I also think that we – our generation – should be ashamed of ourselves.  I mean, we bought into the cr*p (pardon my French), youth obsession, big time and just took the punches – “Old? Oh, I guess so, after all I’ll be forty next year. Pass the hair colour and a pot of that wonder wrinkle remover and if that doesn’t work, there’s always Botox!”  Should we not be angry, even militant? Time to stand up and say “I am a woman” and part of what’s wrong with the world today is that the collective wisdom, intuition, understanding and plain old common sense we women have gained through life experiences is treated like so much rubbish. My history? Erase it from my face, erase it from my body, then erase it from my mind!

My point is this; the general perception of aging is one of stereotypes and rigidly defined clichés, bar the occasional reference to some fabulous celebrity. I am blown away to see my contemporaries – baby-boomers too – being so entirely “present” and looking so good in the process! Which leaves me asking the question “why has growing older generally been given such a bad rap?  OK, I make some assumptions here, in that I’m talking about women who can embrace life as a gift (not a curse) and explore every moment for the joy within. These are obviously people who have not let themselves be defined by anyone else’s parameters but make their own rules as they go.

Image of Carmen Dell'Orefice courtesy of Wikipedia

What a Day, What a Week...

2011-11-09T13:02:00.000+02:00

What do you mean...my birth certificate expired?

Image of Falstaff courtesy of Wikipedia.

Another Piece of Paradise

2011-11-06T21:52:00.000+02:00

Africa’s West Coast –Wild, mysterious, hidden, lonely, arid, and secretive; oh, what stories this land can tell…Let me take you on a quick trip - an overview - of our new stomping grounds.

Namaqualand Flowers in Spring

Travel from twenty-first century Cape Town, heading north, up the coastal road. Leaving the edge of the suburbs and Koeberg Nuclear Power Station behind, you head out through the dunes and the scrub toward the playground of Langebaan. Here in the sparkle of the Lagoon, the twenty-first century meets the stone-age. Long ago, between the two World Wars, a lone man, tired of the haste and noise of the world, lived on a little boat in the Langebaan Lagoon for thirty years; he found the peace he craved in this stark and vacant place. Today the towns of Langebaan and Saldanha have replaced the wild veld.

Typical Flora

For some, Langebaan only stands at the beginning of the adventure; there are fishing villages to visit, flowers to see, beaches to explore, mountains to climb, caves to find. In the beauty of the Cederberg, retrace the footsteps of the original inhabitants who sheltered in the caves and left the paintings recording their lives. At the top of Saint Helena Bay, you can walk the long, white sandy beach and watch the Dolphins playing in the surf. Elands Bay marks the northern end of Saint Helena Bay, the largest bay in Africa and only one of three bays in the world where the sun rises and also sets.

Langebaan Lagoon (seen from the West Coast Nature Reserve)

On further north, Lamberts Bay celebrates the Crayfish, so plentiful in these waters, with a yearly festival. Further up the coast to Strandfontein and on to Lutzville where the microclimate allows for the making of fine wine. The floral carpets of Namaqualand are waiting, but not for long.

Augrabies Falls

Ahead lie the wonders of the diamond fields and the Augrabies Falls, where the mighty Orange River tumbles into the Atlantic Ocean. This is the frontier of South Africa, a place where one amazing country flows effortlessly into the next. And on to the Namib, but that’s another story, for another day…

Photos thanks to Wikipedia - I seem to have forgotten how to do hyperlinks - working on it!

Water, Boats, Sea & Sky...

2011-07-19T18:33:00.000+02:00

Let us, then, be up and doing
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait…

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Leaving Scotland...

2010-04-03T13:31:00.000+02:00

Scottish Sky toward the North

Leaving Scotland, almost a year ago to the day, was not a hard decision, as much as we had loved it there. All the drama, all the human suffering and pain, all the blood spilled on Scottish soil down the ages lends layers and depth, a patina of sorrow beneath the rugged beauty of the country. As the recession bit deeper into the UK and health issues dogged us, we realized that to prosper once again we would need to leave our comfort zone in this beautiful, poignant place and keep searching for our home.

We’ve been travellers, gypsies if you will, for a year now. No roots yet but slowly making our way back to the twenty first century. Over the way, health has improved and hope has taken the place of despair and soon perhaps, home won’t be a dream anymore but a reality. Along the way, markers hidden in the tangled undergrowth revealed themselves; old friends reaching out to comfort and delight. Along the way I have gleaned some awareness I can truly treasure.

In Gift From the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindberg reminds us “…survival periods enforce a form of simplicity on man. The monk and the nun chose it of their own free will. But if one accidentally finds it…one finds also the serenity it brings.”

The images I’m sharing here are of places in Tanzania and Zambia. All countries have beauty – sometimes hidden, sometimes not – but Africa has so much.

Writing will be sporadic until I have access to the Internet where I live.

Another Time, Another Place...

2010-03-27T08:55:00.000+02:00

I came wandering by and found this old friend. Funny thing about old friends, you can pick up where you left off and nothing has changed. Many miles and places lie between when I last wrote and this point in time...

This journal is to be a gift to myself; a place to write for me now. Sounds selfish, I know but I can't imagine anyone reading here anymore, not my family, not my sons, not my mother, not my friends. I never meant to disappear that way...sheesh it's been a long, long time.

I hope to record a little of the last two years and where I am today; more thoughts, more stories (anecdotes really). Something once again that helps me sort through it all...

Christmas...

2008-12-26T00:35:00.000+02:00

Wherever you may be, I wish you the happiest Christmas!

May the global economic slowdown have us all re-defining what's really important in our lives.

~~~~~ The Journey of the Magi by James Tissot 1894 ~~~~

There has been only one Christmas - the rest are anniversaries. ~W.J. Cameron

I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. ~Charles Dickens

May Peace be your gift at Christmas and your blessing all year through! ~Author Unknown

Peace to all who read this and thank you for continuing with me throughout this somewhat chaotic year.

Thanksgiving...

2008-11-27T23:55:00.000+02:00

Seems like a lifetime since I last was here. So much has happened, not just in our lives, but all over the world...unimaginable events that affect us all.

Today America celebrates Thanksgiving, a timely exercise, and one we would all to well to practice. So, to all of my American friends and family I wish you a peaceful and happy day.

What’s Really Important?

2008-10-04T21:28:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, while reading Rhonda Jeans’ blog, I came across the quote below. Originally part of a post written some months back, it first appeared on another remarkable Blog. This young couple are facing tremendous challenges supported by an amazing family and it seems, a large slice of the blogging world. You can read the whole story and get updates here, http://blog.cjanerun.com/.

I’m always a sucker for writing that helps me slow down and stop and think. And again as we find ourselves at another threshold in our lives and while we assess options and explore possibilities, Rhonda reminds us to “mine everyday for the joy it holds”. Surely a small wisdom we should all remember … How I wish I had written the words below for they speak what has been in my heart since our family photographs were taken and lost in some dusty African shanty town (my missing moments). The few that remain are poor mementos of the freshly bathed, sweet smelling babies, soft-furred companions, sunlit rooms… moments that I treasured (but not enough), moments when the very busy-ness of our lives made me impatient and irritable. Moments when as a mother, as a wife, I should have stopped whatever I was doing, paid attention, worked out was really important. Things can change in a heartbeat…they often do, lives turned around…fragile, precious. And what is really important? And how do you tell? And so, I pass this on to you…because I was this mother too and that is one of my regrets…

"The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make... I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less" by Anna Quindle.

Goodbye Summer, So Long…

2008-09-12T10:33:00.000+02:00

With the rain and the wind, it would seem autumn is truly here to stay…

Small (and big) birds gather at the feeders…along with Red Squirrels who perform all sorts of acrobatics while they hang on the peanut cages, munching away. Unfortunately, the squirrels very shy and run before we can take their photo even though we see them hanging there for up to half an hour... One day...

But inside the shop, flowers brighten things up…

Friends drop by for a chat…

Lots of ice cream waits for a warm weekend…

Splashes of colour all around…

The new coffee corner is working it’s magic…mmm, what an aroma.

My first granny squares ever…really good ways to use up some of the giant bag of yarn I thrifted back in July! These little things are addictive! I love being able to combine crazy colours but am only getting adventurous now after the first nineteen squares. Put-down, pick-up projects are useful with the rhythm of my days when painting or sewing would involve too much of everything – equipment, time, concentration. They stop me getting jittery and irritable because I’m not keeping busy. Even reading (which I love) doesn’t help because there’s nothing (tangible) to show for it at the end of the day. Many a book has been abandoned lately because the intricacies of plot or train of thought are taking too much time to keep track of…sigh…when did that happen? I still believe a wonderful book is as good as a holiday.

Time to put out the freshly baked scones and start the day. For the moment the sun is trying to peek out and the rain has stopped…

Have a wonderful weekend...

Turn, Turn…

2008-09-02T22:43:00.000+02:00

The swallows left Sunday morning…swooping and diving around the house, filling the sky out over the water, their curious, melodious, trilling song filling the air as they bid us farewell. These summer residents have been such a part of each day, filling the sky with acrobatics breathtaking as they skim the water with millimetres to spare, dive, roll and swoop through the air. Now they start the long journey back to Africa, leaving us behind to face autumn and the cold Scottish winter.

And as if someone has pressed a button, the season has changed to autumn; nights have a nip in the air that wasn’t here a week ago. The swallows left on the 31st of August and by Monday the 1st the quality of the light had changed, somehow brighter and richer; even the trees are turning, changing their gowns to amber and gold.

Today the steady rhythm of the morning rain did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of hungry birds crowing the feeders. When a red squirrel “captured” the one peanut feeder, the small birds are forced to scratch around underneath him to catch the bits of nuts that fall. Everything is gathering, preparing for the coming winter, laying in supplies.

~ My take on the traditional scone - Our "bread- and-butter" ~

Normally, Fall brings a respite from summer heat; I don't think we had one day over 19 degrees Celsius - OK maybe one or two, but as M says "the sun always shines in Scotland - it's just covered by clouds". We hope to have the benefits of a mild autumn, perhaps even an Indian summer. With summer being such a non-event, some gloriously sunny fall days would be a wonderful gift, bringing visitors to enjoy the countryside and cream teas at the Jolly Otter!

Apologies for the spacing problems - Blogger won't let me fix it!

It Comes and It Goes…

2008-08-28T10:56:00.000+02:00

A weekend playing hide 'n seek with the sun meant a slower pace, very useful for recuperation but not so good for the coffers.

A bright spot was the arrival of some new Otter Ferry postcards specially made for us. Although the photographer had a grey and cloudy day, she managed to make this little spot look peaceful and atmospheric.

They have been well received by customers and the first batch has almost sold out – always a good sign.

The patient is taking it easy, needing occasional reminders to not take the stairs two at a time and only having to be dragged from the workshop once ;◦) Although this has not been our first experience of cardiac crisis (in 1994 M had an Angioplasty), we certainly hope and pray it will be the last. To this end, we have wound down the work a bit and adjusted diet and exercise once again and I was shocked to see how far away from the old guidelines we had strayed.

Living out here we should have slowed down a lot, but like workaholics everywhere, we dived right in concentrating on opening the shop, setting up the carpentry workshop, trying to manage Internet sales, all spare time spent finding interesting stock. Since last Friday when time stood still, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about quality of life; old wisdoms that previous generations lived by; the worsening economy, the lack of time, the erasure of basic survival skills (like being able to cook wholesome food) and above all, the lack of joy in our daily lives. Some of the new links lead to web pages written by women who have found a quieter, more considered way of life and found great satisfaction along with it. And I suppose this means that I’m still on a journey, albeit a detour on the way as the destination shifts and changes. A destination glimpsed now and again…the oasis through the sandstorm…

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all.

~Emily Dickinson

Homecoming Heroes (ermmm, Heroines?)

2008-08-20T23:35:00.000+02:00

Fortunately the empty spaces here didn’t stay that way for long before M was back; realising that anxiety about being so far away was causing his patient much distress, M’s cardiologist sent him home for rest and recovery (and a bit of Olympic fever).

The wonders of modern medicine are such that some clots and blockages can be busted from the outside in and the injections that left such impressive bruises on M’s abdomen, were the weapons of this battle. The blockage, leaving its permanent mark on his ECG from Friday onwards, was gone by Saturday night and he was ready to come home! This doesn’t mean that the war is won; tests and specialists appointments are going to become part of our lives for the foreseeable future not to mention a concentrated re-commitment to diet and exercise.

Getting the man home from the hospital presented a new set of problems neatly solved by a dear friend and neighbour. Having spent most of Saturday helping a very spaced-out me (after four hours restless sleep) to manage the shop and do some dreary chores, she was quick to spot that I was in no condition to drive and volunteered to get me back over the water to take some of M’s things to him. When I got the call that he was being discharged, a stop at a supermarket was arranged so that I could get essential supplies.

And as if that wasn’t enough, this good Samaritan arrived to pick me up, bearing a freshly baked quiche for our supper!

A neighbour, a friend, a very special person…Thank you from us both.

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”

~ Winston Churchill

In A Heartbeat…

2008-08-17T23:30:00.000+02:00

It was a beautiful morning…enough clouds for coolness and the promise of lots sunshine later. Warm and slightly humid with a gentle breeze, just enough to keep the midges at bay, perfect!

Community Ladies coffee morning, only a few ladies, summer has the community working hard and we only catch up now and again, but we could sit outside!

Five young men having breakfast on the beach, kayaks drawn up on the sand, plates of scones and banana loaf, lattes and cappuccinos fill the table.

A reporter from the local paper looking for a story, catching M and I as we bustle past with coffee and pots of tea, some quick pictures, then we’re off again.

Customers in and out, quick sales - a book here, some wine glasses there – good weather means good business.

A lovely busy morning…

As we wave goodbye to the last departing guest and settle into the lull over lunchtime, M says he’s just going to sit down for a few minutes. The man has been going all morning, we both have but he has done double duty so that I could grab a quick cup with the ladies before they left. I’m making us a lunch snack when I hear him on the phone and something makes me stop what I’m doing and go through to the office…my husband is sitting there, his normal healthy colour now a grey shade of putty and he’s wet, sweat sticking to his brow and dark patches on his shirt!

He’s already called the doctor and taken the spray kept for such emergencies. I race to close the shop – no time to bring in chairs and tables, plants and tools, just the signs and lock the door…. a “gone to the doctor” sign for afternoon customers hurriedly taped to the glass. Into the car and we’re off – in this remote part of Scotland, it can take an ambulance two hours to reach you, better to get to the surgery half an hour away and wait for the paramedics there!

The pain is getting worse, he can’t talk, just concentrating on every bend of this road we now know so well, thirty minutes might as well be three hundred minutes, who knew the road was so long, but we make it. At the surgery, oxygen mask on, drugs are given, needles put in, and ECG read, the ambulance comes, more drugs and finally the pain is down enough to move him – the paramedics strap him in, I climb in beside him and we’re off on the long, winding, single track road to the nearest town to what our paramedics call a cottage hospital. When did this road get so long, so bumpy? The paramedic is great, making sure M’s stable and quietly (calmly) chatting to us both about everyday things all the while keeping an eagle eye on the machines monitoring blood pressure and heart rate, but the oxygen and the drugs are doing the work and the pain is manageable now. Into Emergency at the hospital but they won’t keep him; another ambulance is summoned and we’re off to the ferry across the Clyde to the big hospital. Four hours after the first phone call, my precious husband is finally admitted to the intensive cardiac care unit…

Hours later I’m in a taxi racing to catch the last ferry back. M is in a small ward with professionals at beck and call, resting and mercifully stable. Three hours later, (12.35am) when I finally get home and call the ward, he’s sleeping…

Lives are changed; turned around, lost in a heartbeat…I’m so grateful mine remains much the same. Oh, there will be changes to be sure…but nothing we can’t handle because we’ll be changing together…

So much to be grateful for...

Summertime…

2008-08-13T10:43:00.000+02:00

Summer 2008…in this northern hemisphere, a season of contrasts, brilliant sunshine, sparkling water, people everywhere. Days so busy we work ‘til we’re dropping – bake, clean, serve, smile – rinse, repeat. Amazing how this tiny patch of Scotland attracts visitors from all over, American, Canadian, Dutch, French, German, South African…and of course the Scots themselves, all out and about, sharing in this special summer magic. Never too hot in the glorious sun, a breeze off the sparkling water and so they come in cars and boats, on motorcycles and bicycles, on foot, mostly on holiday, mostly happy!

But these sunny days are special, above all rare, leaving us greedy for more; for every day of sunshine, a little rain must fall and fall it does. Precipitation here is a creative concept – how many ways does water have to fall? Come to the Highlands to find out. There are the heavy, straight-down downpours of a summer storm, the gossamer drizzle of low-lying clouds, the gentle, steady rain that settles in for days and many combinations in between. The quieter pace of wet weather has a profound impact on the amount of traffic we see in our little shop where six friendly folk can have cappuccinos in cosy comfort but seven is a crowd.

On those wonderful days – dry enough to put the tables and chairs outside – the parade of interesting boats up and down the loch adds to the already spectacular scenery. The photos show some of the local traffic, keeping M and his camera busy in the last month or two.

This is The Waverly, a regular sight in the summertime. Last year I wrote a little bit about the history of the Clyde Steamers and their long tradition. You can read that story here.

~~~ Absolute tranquility at the end of a summer day... ~~~

Hmmm, Is There a Problem Here?

2008-04-28T23:00:00.000+02:00

When we first hoped for a little shop, it seemed like just a dream. M and I were working in the south of England and our jobs, while rewarding, didn’t satisfy the need to craft something for our future with our own hands. That was nearly three years ago and the road to now has been a bumpy ride at times. Along the way, the focus shifted a lot and as we defined our strengths and weaknesses, there has been constant adjustment of our goals.

The ill-defined destination of the journey is still revealing itself…we have not yet arrived but like an explorer in a new world, I am finding challenges to overcome constantly!

How grand and high-minded that all sounds! In a nutshell, my bad habits of a lifetime are coming home to roost and many of them have to do with…

Time management…Oh my, how much time can I waste! …It’s criminal, knowing intellectually that there is no more than what I have been given (however long that is) and each passing day means less of it. And yet, I fritter it away! If procrastination were an Olympic event, I’d have double gold at least.

Why is it so hard to stop? Is it some sort of addictive behaviour? Surely, having identified the problem, I could just re-adjust a little and correct myself – make a list and follow it – or something? Usually, procrastination applies to the unpleasant chores waiting; washing the windows, finishing the laundry, clearing up the shed, keeping up with the filing, doing the taxes. But, guess what? Keep putting stuff off and it snowballs, and I find myself at eleven pm, in a howling gale and driving rain (because I was watching a fascinating show about composting), with a dying flashlight (put off buying batteries), in my summer dressing gown (the winter one is in the wash) looking for a box (last seen at the bottom, back, furthest corner, amongst the spider webs), holding the missing sales receipts from eight months ago (that should have been filed already), that I need for the tax return that I have until midnight to file online (before we are fined), in the shed that should have been sorted over the Christmas break – four months ago! I think you get the picture…

This happened, I’m still here…does anyone know of a twelve-step program…somewhere…?

The Otter Ferry Comeback Kid?

2008-04-09T13:53:00.000+02:00

~ The first day open ... third of March and all snowed up ~

I can’t believe it’s been so long! When I last posted, I knew that entries would be scarce; few and far between, but I never realised it would take so long to get back. This is really like starting over and going through my links in the sidebar, I see there’s a lot of “housekeeping” to be done
here.

~~Major cleanup work done -just painting & decorating to go.~~

Woodendollars, the bricks and mortar store is open! Has been open for a month but it’s been a slow start. With weather, tax season and other events (both planned and unplanned), the estimated couple of weeks has turned into nearly two months?

~~~~~~~~~~ Almost there - Still too empty! ~~~~~~~~~~

For the friends and family who justifiably think we’ve dropped out completely and for those of you who may still wander by, I’m going to chronicle the process with some pictures ‘cause you know they’re worth a thousand words.

~~~~~~~~~~~ Starting to look like something? ~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll hopefully get this place cleaned up a bit, organise the categories better and fix all the links too. Wow, it’s good to be back!

First You Catch Your Elephant…(A Guest Post)

2008-02-17T22:26:00.000+02:00

Our second eldest son, who works in the wildlife conservation industry in Africa, wrote this entry. Last year was an event filled one for J, who contracted Malaria and Anthrax in the space of a few months! Today, he celebrates his birthday and I thought I’d post this account where he gives us a brief insight into the wildlife business as one of the guys “on the spot” complete with photos. Happy Birthday J!

I’m sure you probably know that the world in general is hugely against culling of any sort, especially that of elephants… but on the ground here (and in most of Africa) elephants are a huge problem (no pun intended), as there are simply too many. So efforts are being made to find alternatives to culling and one of the solutions is translocation, not always viable, as buyers are few, with the market (and everywhere else) being flooded with elephants.

The last capture we did in Victoria Falls, was one where a commercial farm was introducing black rhino onto their property… only thing was, they had too many bull elephants, so we were called in to move some (21 to be exact) of the bulls off the property, but once again there weren’t any buyers, so all we did was catch, & release them again onto “wild” and unfenced government land.

The process of elephant capture starts with darting them from a helicopter… it only takes a very small amount of (edited) drug (less than 1.5 ml.) to bring a 5000kg animal down. After the elephant is darted, there is a ground team who stays close by to get to the animal as soon as it goes down (8 to 10min after darting)… just to make sure it falls correctly (very important), the vital signs are ok and so on. Whilst this is happening, the bush is busy being cleared for a truck with a crane mounted on top to get to the animal, the elephant then has slings tied around its “ankles” & tusks (if present), and is lifted upside down (the safest way for elephants) by its feet onto the truck. Normally the animal would go from there into a larger truck, where it would be revived for transport… in this case though, they didn’t have far to go, so the animals were kept under sedation until we reached our off loading point outside of the farm. The picture that I attached was after the animal had been off loaded… I had just administered the antidote into one of the veins in the ear, it “woke” up and walked off about two minutes after that. So there you have it… the whole process (one elephant at a time) takes approximately an hour and a half, at an average of only three animals a day as heat & other factors come into play…

A Short Valentine Story...

2008-02-15T00:31:00.000+02:00

Every family, everywhere has at least one story of great romance. From the most humble to the most splendid, these are the memories that fuel our imaginations, inspire us and reassure us. In the harsh and unforgiving modern world, these stories shine out to remind us of the power of love.

Last year, at this time I wrote about the meeting that changed my life forever, when M and I first met, here and here. But long before that meeting could happen, maybe half a century earlier, another story was being played out…

They met at a wedding, both had sisters who were bridesmaids, and they had travelled from the small farming communities of Paarl and Willowmore to be there. The place: A society wedding in the diamond boomtown of Kimberly, Cape Province in the Union of South Africa. The time: sometime in those halcyon days between the end of Second Boer War and the outbreak of World War I.

Willowmore and Paarl were at opposite ends of the Cape Province and had it not been for the wedding, these young people may never have met. Her father was a wine farmer in Paarl and his family had a department store in Willowmore and the two towns were several hundred miles apart. That early meeting blossomed into love and they became engaged, not realising that events taking place in far-off Europe would soon force them apart.

The outbreak of WWI in Europe meant young men all over the British Empire were enlisting; he joined the RAF (Royal Air Force) in England and served as a fighter pilot until the end of the war. Years later when the war ended and he returned to South Africa, she was waiting for him and they were married.

My mother’s parents were not unusual; many young girls waited for years for their beloved to return from the war and many never came back. It’s a condition as old as the human race but no less poignant in the repetition…

Snow and Other Diversions...

2008-02-05T23:27:00.000+02:00

Winter arrived on the weekend after all the mildly cold and somewhat gentle seasonal weather that we have been having; for a Scottish winter it has been positively bland! The ominous warnings began on the thirtieth, my birthday, when neighbours dropping in asked if we were ready for the weekend and hadn’t we heard there was SNOW on the way. Having not heard anything and thinking that perhaps this was a bit of over-enthusiasm for some real winter weather, we didn’t pay too much attention. The first warning that perhaps we should have listened a bit better, was the sound of heavy winds growling 'round the house Thursday night!

Friday I tried to get a quick post written in between other work as I waited for the telephone engineer, the tree felling guy, the landlord and M to sort out our broken telephone/Internet connection. Well, we all know where I got with that! I'm still trying to catch up with my list of "To do's" and here it is Tuesday already and this is my first post for February…pictures of snow. It didn’t stick around for long; rain later in the day ensured that the hills were back to normal by nightfall.

But it was magical for the moment; imagine a whole landscape dusted softly with a thick cloud of icing sugar! And the stillness, so still…the only sounds, the rhythmic lapping of the tide on the sand and the far-off calls of the Eider Ducks…

Winter Warmer...Healthy Oatmeal Soda Bread

2008-01-19T20:23:00.000+02:00

Not getting very far this month ... being workshop assistant has it's drawbacks! The patient is improving slowly although it seems like a case of one step forward and two steps back sometimes! I've never had to live with a case of broken ribs before and it's been quite an eye opener! Silly things like coughing or sneezing cause incredible pain and common movements, such as bending to pick up something or reaching over the head, have to be done very carefully.

Keeping us extra healthy is a big priority right now so I'm making lots of nourishing soups and this bread. It's quick and easy and wonderful with a bowl of steamy goodness...and a nice glass of red wine.

Healthy Oat Soda Bread

Butter and flour a 2 lb (900 gram) loaf pan – makes one large loaf

2 C wholemeal flour
1 C self-raising flour
1 C breakfast oats (not instant)
½ C wheat germ
½ C all bran cereal
2 tsps bicarbonate of soda
2 tsps sea salt
1-heaped teaspoon raw sugar
1 large egg
2 ½ C buttermilk I never have this (mix whole milk with 1 Tblsp vinegar–let stand 10 minutes)

Mix the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl and make a well in the middle. Beat the egg and the buttermilk together and add. Mix together with a fork or spoon until most lumps are incorporated and you are left with a slightly sloppy dough. Spoon this in to your prepared pan and give it all a good shake to level. Bake at 190 C or 375 F for 50 minutes to an hour depending on your oven. Turn out and let cool on a cake rack. This doesn’t get very cool at our house…just barely warm and fresh out of the oven; it makes the most wonderful base for a lunch of cheese and pickles, or a rustic pate, or just serve it with butter to accompany a big pot of fragrant country soup. Very yummy...

Bruises and Breaks: A Cracking Start to The New Year at Otter Ferry

2008-01-10T14:33:00.000+02:00

We have been so focused lately that we spent almost all of the holiday season working, with the exception of Christmas Day, doing something towards our several ongoing projects everyday (even New Years Eve). Because our application to re-open the Post Office branch here at Otter Ferry has been approved, one of the big jobs is clearing the storage room that will become M’s main workshop. He is also working on some commission pieces and needed open space to use the big saw safely. As it was, the saw was the least of our worries, we never got that far…as M was packing things outside the door to move, his safety boot became caught in the door frame (which was loose) and he fell head first into the room, landing with his chest straight down onto the broken handle of a trolley waiting to be taken out the door. Because of the angle of the fall and the fact that the trolley was on the lower level, all his weight was at the point of impact, squarely on the broken handle end.

The trolley is standing to the right of the door - broken handle closest to the door

Two, possibly three, broken ribs and some impressive bruising later, we are counting ourselves fortunate that it wasn’t worse. M had an array of tools in the pockets of his jacket that could have caused some nasty wounds…that screwdriver alone, for one!

Why do we store dangerous things? That old broken trolley is vintage as well as useful (M’s a sucker for a fine piece of old iron) and the original broken handles had to be left on to copy for new ones. To be fair, most of the stuff is furniture waiting to be restored with some smaller items that are stock for the shop/post office. Wood, for the most part is stacked outside but we do have several sheets of plywood that must stay very dry – still storage of any type is always at a premium and it’s the odd bits…the garden hose, bags of cement, the steam cleaner, fertiliser, etc. that clutter up the space. There are no other potential culprits, unless you count tripping over some inanimate object so I suppose this falls (Arghhhhh! unintentional pun) under the category of freak accident.

Nevertheless work continues, albeit slowly, here at Woodendollars and the best bit for me…as new workshop assistant, I’m finally being allowed within three feet of the power tools!

Our Second Scottish New Year…

2008-01-01T23:57:00.000+02:00

A soft and gentle start to this New Year…wisps of mist enveloping hillsides in gossamer arms. The lone heron, on sentinel duty this morning, could admire his perfect reflection in the satin-smooth surface of the loch. And all was still…nothing disturbed the quietness, the peace of this first morning of the first day of 2008.

~~~~ A hundred years ago ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Arrival of the New Year ~~~~

“ We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room-by-room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential.”
~ Ellen Goodman

For all my family and friends and for all of you who may read this, I wish you health and peace and plenty of potential! Happy New Year!

Of This and That…

2007-12-23T16:50:00.000+02:00

Winter whispers around Otter Ferry reminding us that he’s waiting in the wings. We’ve been fortunate so far and it’s easy to forget that there’s potential to get so much colder! For people from warmer climes, we pat our selves on the back constantly for handling this extreme weather so well, haha! Really, it’s not so bad; after all, the climate in the western highlands is quite mild compared to the rest of northern Europe thanks to the Gulf Stream.

Preparations for Christmas have been low-key…my biggest achievement has been to stay away from the local town ‘til after the holidays. What would we do without the Internet? Village trips for supplies are great…there’s a lot of small community spirit happily adding to the festive feeling and most people are cheery and laid-back! It’s easy to “feel the season” here and this year we even have a little tree for the first time in many years. Baking and sewing have been keeping me busy, while M is occupied in the workshop, and adds to the whole rural idyll. Part of the fun has been trying to keep life as simple as possible, not easy to do normally, but so achievable over Christmas!

Lately, out in Blogland, I’ve really been drawn to American Primitive style and since painting wasn’t an option (I have too much unfinished work), I settled on something stitched. Digging around the ragbag produced some plaids and checks and I experimented with a much-needed hot-water bottle cover for my first attempt!

~~~~~~~~~~ Obsolete Shirts and a Dress ~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~ Ta Da...The Finished Product ~~~~~~~~

Well it’s a bit wonky – but it works! There's a lot of satisfaction giving useless items a new purpose although more practice is definitely needed here! I'm off to do it again...this one's for M!

In the meantime, I hope you're enjoying a peaceful break before the big day...

Thunder, Lightening, a Hot Drink and These…

2007-12-06T22:20:00.000+02:00

Last night was dramatic; long before nightfall the wind was whipping the loch into a frenzy of whitecaps. Black clouds banked up over the hills on the other side and as darkness descended (just after 4 pm) the sky was lit by intermittent flashes and rolling, rumbling thunder.

The Rayburn was out-performing anything we had managed to achieve last winter, with a new grate, thanks to the kindness of a dear friend; who gave us the one from her soon-to-be-replaced old faithful. Having worked late, with supper long gone and the weather growling ‘round the house, it was time for coffee and a snack so I made a batch of these South African favourites. They’re quick and easy and if you don’t have all the ingredients, they still work with substitutions.

Crunchies

500ml / 2 C oatmeal (not instant) quick cooking is fine
250ml / 1 C flour - I use fine whole-wheat flour
250ml / 1 C shredded coconut - I use dried or desiccated coconut
200 ml / 4/5 C sugar - any type, white is OK, soft brown is yummy too!
250 g / 1 ½ sticks margarine - This seems like a lot of trans fat! I used 125grams butter!
15 ml / 1 Tblsp. golden syrup – I didn’t have golden, maple worked well.
5 ml / 1 tsp. baking soda
5 ml / 1 tsp. baking powder

Melt margarine and syrup together in a large pot.
Add baking soda and stir.
The mixture will froth up; just keep stirring until it has all frothed up.
Add all remaining ingredients and mix well.
Press into a greased baking sheet. (I used my roasting pan)
Dough must be 1 1/2 cm thick.
Bake at 350F for 25 minutes. (Adjust time according to thickness-golden brown is good!)
While still hot, cut into squares and leave to set before removing to cooling rack.

M thought that this batch was a bit dry so next time I’ll use about 200 grams of butter. Although I’ve made heaps of these over the years, it’s only lately that I’ve been trying to make some of our favourite recipes healthier. I always kid myself that these are good for us because of the oats, coconut and whole-wheat flour! When our sons were small, a tray of Crunchies would easily disappear in an afternoon (although I get thirty squares out of each batch) but they can last for two or three days in an airtight container.

The Rayburn made short work of these…they were ready and brown after only fifteen minutes! Oh boy, but then we had to wait until they cooled down enough to eat! The birds loved the crumbs from the baking tin this morning and we’ve got biscuits for the weekend. There’s something so satisfying in having a tin full of homemade goodies, no additives or other nasties…I feel very virtuous!

Photos, Fountains and Walking Sticks…

2007-12-01T02:14:00.000+02:00

A kind neighbour has given me a photograph of the Rankin fountain taken around 1910 (thank you, Tom)! The strange carving on the fountain has been lost or removed at some stage because it’s not there now and it seems the pipe has been extended! I've also been told that there is supposed to be another fountain (not a monument – but also at the roadside) on the loch-side road to Strachur. Were fountains like this a common feature by the tracks and lanes here in Scotland in the 19th Century?

Many other photos’ that came with the fountain picture should fill in some more of the Otter Ferry “story” as soon as I’m able to research them fully.

While I’ve been messing about with buttons and history, M has been busy with diverse restoration. Some lovely walking sticks that have been hanging around for months finally got the attention they deserved. Walking sticks are big here in Scotland, all shapes and sizes, with carved horn handles on hazel sticks being the traditional favourites.

Like many collectable objects, walking sticks and canes have been elaborated on in amazing ways over the years and hallmarked silver examples are not uncommon. This one is a very nice, late Victorian, Arts & Crafts style on bamboo. All of these sticks were black with dirt and needed thorough cleaning before we could put them up on eBay...

These small but necessary jobs that seem so tedious when days are long and warm, are perfectly designed for the cold and dark of winter. Working inside the studio and workshop, we are blessed by the warmth of the stove, the views of the loch and the company of friends and neighbours. Plenty of opportunity for quiet reflection, plotting new projects and looking forward...

Wishing you all a warm and wonderful weekend!

Small Mysteries...

2007-11-28T00:38:00.000+02:00

The dramatic scenery of our new home has captivated me…over and over I write about the beauty, the wild, rugged, gentle, landscape; the tempestuous, glorious weather. A land of contrasts but there is so much more to this country than views and weather; abandoned ruins, enchanting castles, interesting stories, so many small mysteries like the one that I drive past every few days.

If you were to take the winding, single-track road from Otter Ferry over the hills through the hamlet of Kilfinan, you will pass one of the oldest churches in Scotland. This tiny 13th century stone church silently bears witness to centuries of turbulent upheavals that it’s peaceful setting belies; a serene and ancient venue for weddings and worship. Its history dates back to sometime between 1231 and 1241 when the church of St Finan first appeared in official records.

If you cross the bridge over the burn that runs alongside the church grounds you will follow the road as it heads up between old and pristine stone walls behind which sheep graze on deep green pastures. A handful of houses, both old and new, mark the road and as you reach the crest, the stone walls give way to fences, hedges and glimpses of loch. Further on, past holiday homes and old farmhouses, through patches of trees and down another hill and there, at the side of the road, you’ll find this fountain; angled in such a way that it is all but hidden and unnoticed in the sweep of view as the valley unfolds below.

In days gone by, horses would have drunk from the trough below the running water, now a plank provides a shelf for mugs. The water flows day and night, constant, refreshment for any weary traveller…the mugs have been there as long as we have been making the trip toTighnabruaich and probably long before.

The inscription on the stone reads, in memory of Patrick Rankin, of Otter and Auchengray, 1880. This was not Otter Ferry but Otter Estate, at the hamlet of Kilfinan, and who was Patrick Rankin? Is this fountain a living monument to the same Patrick Rankin, whose gravestone in the Kilfinan church yard reveals that he died in his early thirties?

I’ve been told the water from this fountain is full of minerals (unlike our normal water here, which is very soft), and that it has many health benefits. That might explain why an elderly man (word has it he is in his 80’s) cycles some seven or eight miles every few days to replenish his supply. This same robust octogenarian apparently rides many miles more in the opposite direction to his favourite golf course every week for a round or two. I have passed him a few times on the road…tackling the long rises with seeming ease! If only someone reading this can add to the story of the fountain, the cyclist and the water...?

Happy Thanksgiving...

2007-11-21T23:03:00.001+02:00

For all our family, friends and visitors in America.

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it;

But we hae meat, and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit.

~Robert Burns~

Happy Thanksgiving!

Southern Folk Art Giveaway…

2007-11-19T15:46:00.000+02:00

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Naïve painting by unknown Brazilian artist ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

No, not this one...I just had to post a picture and the only Folk Art example I've got, that doesn't infringe someones copyright, is this one. I could've used one of mine but I think everyone's seen those already!

Jessie over at Purple Cucumbers is having a drawing for one of her original Folk Art paintings! If you like Southern Folk Art, go on over and have a gander and you’ve got a bit of time, read about her amazing story!

So What Was That About A Birdbrain?

2007-11-18T13:26:00.000+02:00

Dawn over Otter Ferry and drifting out to greet the day, I discovered how the modern Thrush
warms up for his morning solo.

Up there on the edge of the chimney, he is getting the gentle heat from the Rayburn. Sorry about the picture quality, but it was still quite dark on this side with the hills in the way.

The first shot was taken facing the hills to the north east...see the clouds? When I turned and saw the Thrush, the sky above us was still clear. Ten minutes and a quick shower later, a rainbow appeared over the loch, picked out in the early light...

Rhythms of the Seasons...

2007-11-15T23:27:00.000+02:00

~~~ An Allegory of Winter by Ambrogio Lorenzetti ~~~

Wintery weather is here; standing outside Tuesday, the morning frost lay thick right down to the water’s edge. There’s much peace in the profound hush that settles along with the cold – the distant hooting of the Eiders and the occasional baaa of a sheep, the only disturbances to an otherwise perfect silence.

Now that I’m no longer making the daily commute, I’m busier than every. All those things I wanted to do all summer long are clamouring for attention and standing outside admiring the weather can’t last long…a few minutes and my heavy jeans feel like they’re made of tissue, my sweater of lace! A few minutes, maybe ten – to fill the bird feeders – and gaze over the loch and I’m gone; back to the warmth, to coffee and oats, and any one of the myriad things that need to be done. Here in this place now, perhaps for the first time, the order in the rhythms of the seasons begins to make sense.

~~ The view down Loch Fyne from Inveraray Harbour ~~

Time, no longer committed to a “big girl’s job”, has to be used more prudently than ever. My biggest problem is that I can cheerfully spend hours doing some simple task that would take others a few minutes. M grabs big chunks off each day and accomplishes enormous amounts of work; I wander around, like a dormouse at a tea party, a nibble here, a nibble there…never finishing anything. It’s not the way to build a body of work, make those Christmas presents, finish these lavender hearts or replace the missing salary (generally known around here as “keeping the wolf from the door”.

Back in July or August on one of my “thrifting” expeditions, I bought a big, heavy, paper shopping-bag, full of smaller plastic bags, full of buttons; a sack full of treasure! My obsession with buttons goes all the way back to childhood when often, the only “toy” produced to amuse me when visiting an elderly Aunt was the button tin (or box or…). A good button collection is hard to beat…usually collected over years and years, covering several decades and reflecting all the best (and worst) of the fashionable trends of the day, it was something every housewife deemed vital. After all, a shirt missing a button or two was a useless item good only for a rag, or patches or a duster; but produce spare buttons to match and it was a new shirt! No “throw away” mind-set in those days!

So, now that it’s nicer inside than outside, I open my treasure sack for the first time and marvelled at the bounty it contains. An accomplished and prolific needlewoman assembled this collection over four decades and I’ve never seen anything like it! Literally thousands of buttons, all sorted into bags according to colour…hundreds in each bag and two bags of some colours. When I started sorting one bag I quickly realised there are far too many for me to ever use (and many complete sets). So I’m starting with a few, mounting them on plain, brown card hangtags (bought to make gift labels) and see if I can sell them on eBay or on the website because there is no way I will ever be able to use them all…At least I don’t have to wonder what to do next!

Notice how I start with golden ones first...like a Magpie! ...

.............. I hope everyone has a warm and wonderful weekend!

Changes...

2007-11-07T14:41:00.000+02:00

Tuesday evening last week, we said goodbye to Dorothy and Alain (of Oystercatcher fame) and their family. They have left the land of the lochs to head for the Languedoc-Roussillion region of France…it’s always sad to loose good neighbours but especially so when they’ve become good friends. We were fortunate to enjoy the yearly events that they promoted like the Big Beach Clean-up and Bastille Day and will miss their unique combination of French warmth and Yorkshire hospitality!

The last weekend in October saw the end of British Summer Time and the clocks went back an hour. This has given us daybreak earlier…but this hasn’t counted for much ‘cause we had drizzly, grey mornings most of the week. Of course, “what you gain on the swings, you loose on the round about” and our “night” is happening around five in the afternoon! I don’t know where I’ve been; it seems only yesterday we were having these long, long days – now it’s long, long nights!

During the mild days of October, the surrounding countryside turned gold and russet, then November winds began, enticing the leaves from the branches and sending them dancing merrily down slopes and lanes and into the waiting loch. The loch in turn, tumbles them about and scatters them back up on the shoreline, leaving a deep bronze band at water’s edge. The wind brings other benefits; the previously cloudy sky has opened up and sunlight and shadow mark patterns on the leaf strewn grass. Bird feeders are busy, the fat balls, peanuts and suet filled coconut shells have brought dozens of previously unknown guests into the garden. Five minutes in the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee turns into fifteen as I watch their antics from the window all thought of chores forgotten!

I’m off to hang up the laundry…nothing comes close to the fresh smell of wind-dried sheets and towels; a small perk of the simple life!

Editors note: Can't put text next to the pics - 14th Century depiction of The Wind and photo of Loch Fyne and the ruins of McEwan castle - photographer unknown.

A Year…already!

2007-10-28T18:25:00.000+02:00

On the 24th,we marked our first year here. It seems like yesterday when tired and weary, our little convoy pulled into the driveway to be welcomed by the most spectacular sunset we’d seen since leaving Africa. We were in for a new experience; for the first time since arriving in the UK, we could truly breathe again…open skies, light and wind and always the loch, smooth as glass, rough as a stormy sea…

Back at the homestead all my frustrated farming instincts kicked in! I mean we had LAND (ok, a garden then). Well…it was bigger than a handkerchief! Part overgrown tangles, part bog, partly gravel, partly sand, the most eye-catching feature was the large pile of ash and rubbish that dominated the back garden. Oh, and lets not forget the concrete slab where a shed had once stood. And this had already been cleaned up a lot with people clearing, burning and hacking before we arrived!

Ever so sensibly, we decided to leave the garden and get ourselves organised inside, after all winter was on the way! But by February, I had talked myself into starting seeds on the office windowsill. Not a lot, just some that needed a long growth period like Gem Squash (small, sweet, hard-shelled summer squash) and a few chilli plants. By the end of March, the kitchen window was almost obliterated by tiny pots of parsley and thyme; cuttings of rosemary and the first of the many sage plants that I have managed to kill this season.

Before we needed to install more lights in the kitchen, the weather began to warm up and M came up with a brilliant idea for the herbs. It served the double purpose of disguising the concrete slab and giving us a temporary home for the little plants while gathering together some of the double building blocks scattered around the place. Unfortunately, not all the transplantees (?) survived and I never was able to get all the spaces filled at the same time but no problem, I was happy with what we managed to do anyway.

So for a round up: Moroccan Mint and Apple Mint have done really well. Not so the un-identified, variegated, smooth leaved mint we bought on Bastille Day. It died right back and is currently on the kitchen windowsill (sending out new growth from it’s roots). Then there were the Sages, one by one they turned brown, withered and died (or withered then turned brown); whatever, they all died (all five of them). Thyme (variegated, lemon and plain) was a great success, along with the parsley. One Rosemary cutting died but the others have just grown and grown along with nasturtiums, green onions, chard (perpetual spinach), Golden Marjoram and Poached Egg flowers, Lavender and Geraniums. The Greek Oregano was looking good for a while and then suddenly started dying from the bottom up until all that was left was a tall grey stick. Lobelias, roses, fuchsias, have rewarded us with masses of colour and ongoing blooms. OK, I know almost all of the list can grow themselves but hey, this is a new and unknown climate. By the way, those Gem Squash grew into green midgets with heaps of flowers that just opened and dropped…then the plants died. The Chillies actually grew backwards…transplanted out in May; they were tiny, green and gorgeous until the sometime in August. Only problem is they just became smaller and smaller until, one day, they just weren’t there anymore!

M removed all of the rubbish and ash left behind..a slow and laborious effort, done bit by bit over the summer and the garden has been roughly divided up. Holes on the lawn have been filled in and the beds defined. There is a rough outline where the rockery will be and gravel has been spread around the areas outside the kitchen and laundry room. It's not as far along as we had hoped but given all the other things going on in our lives, we've made a good start. The wildlife seems to appreciate our slow pace; we have a red squirrel that scampers around in the mornings, a hedgehog eats the insects attracted to the back door light, the pheasants like the grassy areas and birds are busy at the feeders all day long. Ahhh! Progress...

So now autumn is here and I rounded up some of the last of the flowers lurking around the garden. They looked so cheerful; I took their picture on the mantle.

The mauve/pink at the back is a very pretty gladiolus that just popped out of the gravel garden, with white daisies, yellow and orange nasturtiums, blue lobelia and a sprig of Spanish lavender (Lavandula stoechas).

We've had a great year...

I hope all of you have a great week!

Highs and lows! Rugby World Cup...

2007-10-21T21:44:00.001+02:00

Well I don’t normally watch rugby! I have enough trouble keeping up with the blog world without adding other pursuits to my already stretched schedule! But I couldn’t resist watching this week’s World Cup Final and decided I could keep an ‘eye’ on the English – South African match while writing my weekend post! Ha!

The TV is located directly to my right and is angled toward me a bit so that if I turn to the right, I have a clear view of the screen. I started writing just before the match began and managed the title and two lines. At half time, I had the same title and only one line, having deleted one accidentally while swinging round to view a penalty! I also had a stiff neck and the beginnings of a headache! Things got a bit better during half time. I started from the beginning and managed a whole paragraph before the “try that wasn’t”; from then on it was all about the game.
Wonderful stuff and fabulous to watch knowing how South Africans love their sport and knowing how much a win would unite the people – the whole country was behind the team!

It was sad to see what poor losers England have become! Once upon a time, England taught the rest of the world about sportsmanship! Where has that gone, never mind good manners? Some members of the English team (including “golden boy – Johnny Wilkinson) were so churlish, they didn’t even shake the proffered hand of the South African President, Thabo Mbeki, (who had travelled 11,000 kilometres to support his team), choosing instead to brush past him as if he wasn’t even there! Too bad they couldn’t follow the example set by their Prime Minister, Gordon Brown and behave with grace and dignity. Instead they embarrassed themselves and their country as they shuffled off, to have a pity party and whine to all who’d listen about their “lost try”, totally negating what a great game was played!

It was William of Wykeham (1320 – 1404), Bishop of Winchester, Chancellor of England and founder of Winchester College and New College, Oxford whose motto was “Manners maketh man”. He was just so old fashioned! George Bernard Shaw obviously had a good grasp of modern UK society when he said in 1898 “We don’t bother much about dress and manners in England, because as a nation we don’t dress well and we’ve no manners. Is this the result of the creation of a classless society? I would have thought in the politically correct minefield of 21st century life, manners would be more important that ever. Oh well…

Well fought – well won!

Congratulations Springboks!

More Local (wild) Life…

2007-10-18T22:24:00.000+02:00

Over the last few months our yard has become a regular morning stop for this neighbourhood family.

Dad started visiting first and he was very nervous in the beginning, only venturing out a short distance from the cover provided by the hedge. But the lure of the tasty insects (residing in our “bog”) and the seeds scattered from the bird feeders proved irresistible and he gradually became bold, even bringing the family round to share the feast. Now we often surprise mom and the boys as they pass by on their way to the beach!

Once on the beach, they scratch and peck like so many colourful chickens, leisurely working their way along the shoreline in a loose group, digging up the tasty morsels under the seaweed. They usually show up late, after we’ve had breakfast, missing the early crowd; a group of older guys who arrive just after daybreak and wander all over the quay and parking area, playing hide-'n-seek with the Eider Ducks.

This early group is comprised of unwitting comics; one lone bird always ventures to the very end of the quay and spends some minutes gazing out over the loch and staring down into the water. Eventually, one or two others will creep out, either to talk some sense into the errant fowl or find out what he found so fascinating in the first place. With the renegade brought back to safety, the group eventually retrace their steps and disappear back into the fields…this little scene has played itself out several mornings while I’ve watched from our windows. I wonder if the same actors fill the same roles every morning or do they take it in turns and what are they thinking in those little birdbrains as the small drama unfolds?

We Interrupt Regular Scheduling….

2007-10-14T23:25:00.000+02:00

Yaaaay Bokke!

In World Cup rugby, the South African Springboks defeated Argentina tonight!

Congratulations Guys!

It’s an England – South Africa final!

October... Already!

2007-10-06T21:59:00.000+02:00

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Camus

Well here we are, well into October … the end of the first week to be exact! Already! What can I say? Is it just me or has this year gone by at the speed of light? The biggest problem here is that we are now only seventy-nine days away from Christmas and then only a week ‘til 2008! Any other time of the year seventy-nine days would be a sizable chunk of time but now, with all the pending holidays, it will be gone before you know it.

Autumn is the loveliest (and shortest) season but then I seem to say that about spring, summer and winter as well. How boring life would be without seasons! The trees surrounding us are changing their dresses for the next party, gold and red and amber appearing on the hills seemingly overnight. Pink patches, where the heather bloomed only a few short weeks ago, are being replaced with purples and russets. Brilliant golden autumn sunshine and ultramarine skies giving way to soft, misty greys as gentle as a dove’s wing, quite different from the brooding greys of summer rains. I stood on the road today and watched a yacht, in full sail, gliding silently up the loch, moving through layers of mist … ethereal, beautiful.

Last week, we had our first frost, followed by some glorious sunshine and warmth. This was real Indian summer stuff; the surrounding hills were bathed in that special golden light favoured by Renaissance painters and typified in this example by Bellini, St Francis in the Desert. These bright, warm days rarely occur into November, this final bonus signals the coming of winter.

Christmas in winter is such a treat for us! African (and Australian) Christmases occur in the hottest part of the year and our adaptations of the traditional celebrations take the corresponding temperatures into account. Imagine having the Noel feast at 90 degrees in the shade! This whole northern hemisphere thing is so exotic … like waking up in a lovely Christmas card. Autumn is just the prelude to all this seasonal magic!

A Long and Winding Road?

2007-09-25T20:29:00.000+02:00

“Feeling validated. Feeling...visible.” Just the words of one blogger explaining what makes her write.

Is this a modern phenomenon, this lack of visibility? Does an invisible woman exist in that void when home, children, community, career or indeed any factor that defines us is removed or changed? Perhaps, back when the family was a more cohesive unit and the Global village didn’t exist, a woman had a more defined (limited) role. Whatever the cause, it’s not a comfortable place; this invisibility and like many, I started blogging hoping to find some missing dimension through writing. I put my loss of self down to the major moves of the last five years, new country, new hemisphere, new career, a whole new life. The challenges; homesickness, missing family, working in a highly competitive environment, struggling in a new society left me with a “me” I couldn’t recognize. So, in a fit of intense “navel gazing” I have started my own form of invisibility therapy, beginning with blogging, recording family history, and creating - whenever and whatever I can!

It all started the dreadful day I realised I wasn't twenty-seven anymore and no, it’s no joke…

I literally woke one morning and looked in the mirror and didn't recognise the face looking back at me! I, who had never ever thought about aging, shrugged off birthdays, laughed when I turned forty and ignored any outward signs of impending middle age. That sudden realisation that I was actually getting older was a huge and scary shock, the impact of which still amazes me! The real me was gone and who was this imposter? And over the following weeks and months it dawned on me that all I needed to do was find the missing me...who was I? Who had I become...while my life rushed by?

While all this selfish introspection was going on, I started having these nagging doubts about the fate of our family history, its origins and traditions? With the family home gone and everyone dispersed to different countries, would these just be lost; in this struggle to make a way through to our old age, who would be the keepers of the family history? With no oral tradition preserving the story of our ancestors how would our grandchildren ever know? Would they care?

M’s family, having lived in one country for three hundred years and in the same home for nearly a hundred years, had a relatively large bank of family history on which to draw. Now the family home is gone and the remaining members scattered far and wide. My family, by comparison had a fairly nomadic existence and any history lived only in the memories of the older members; now there is only one cousin left and he is in his nineties. So I’m going along this road picking up the threads and as I go, I’ll try to weave together all the bits I can. Because the more scattered and dispersed we are, the more I crave the history of my origins… by digging around the past will I find some clues to what or who I have become? Perhaps, like me, one of my descendents will look for their past in a effort to understand their present and find as much of the story that I can piece together, recorded here. Is this just me? Do others feel the same way about their “roots”?

Time, time, time, to see what’s become of me…

2007-09-17T22:25:00.000+02:00

The nights are drawing in, darkness just after nine and first light just before six. As summer bows out, the winds are a bit sharper, the loch more choppy. We’ve had the usual ups and downs weather wise and are eagerly waiting to start up our lovely old stove! Because the stove runs our hot water supply and heats the upstairs radiators, we will start it up only when we want to keep it going permanently (all winter). I’m looking forward to home-baked bread and winter casseroles again. I never like to do much cooking on the electric stove; it lacks the charm that appeals to my vintage brain and nothing tastes quite as good as the long slow process of cooking the old fashioned way. Yum, "slow food" at it's best!

Saturday the mist hung low, hiding the opposite shore, lifting now and then to expose tantalising glimpses of the altered landscape as wispy drizzle fell. By Sunday rain was falling in earnest, a steady, sullen, curtain but by late afternoon flashes of sunshine promised a clear night. Today the wind was up, blowing briskly, bringing clear skies and plenty of sunshine and tonight it’s very, very cold.

Lavender heart made with pillow ticking, vintage fabric and handmade lace.

With the changing seasons, there’s more time inside and I’ve been longing to get stuck into my steadily growing stash of vintage fabrics. M has set my sewing machine up on our landing, under a window where I only have to glance up to see the loch laid out below me. With such a beautiful view, it’s hard not to be inspired but with my ability to procrastinate, I knew if I didn’t get started it might never happen. So I stopped dithering and just began…and as I worked, I found another little piece of the missing me…

After a summer spent painting, gardening, being builders assistant and chef all with varying degrees of sucess, the opportunity to 'mess around' with fabric proved irresistble...

The Case of the Missing Post Office or How We Lost Our Broadband...

2007-09-10T22:12:00.000+02:00

If you’re thinking this title sounds like the start of long, long story you’d be right! So many things that happen to us are incredibly involved and sometimes quite convoluted and try as I might, I cannot reduce them to 250 words in short report format! I sometimes wonder if our future family members are going to be interested enough to wade through the mountains of words it takes me to effectively describe some of our more bizarre occurrences. Nothing tidy going on here, no way! We like it complicated?

Back in 2006 when this house was advertised, it came with a tiny post office and village shop attached. Sadly the post office had been closed some months before, the little shop had ceased to trade and all the post office equipment stood mournfully piled up in one corner of the empty room. We stacked these remains neatly and covered them with a dustsheet and went on to use the room as a workshop while we went about dealing with the business of getting the post office re-opened and earning a crust.

I won’t go into the minutiae of this struggle but it occupied both M and myself and our long-suffering landlady for almost a year. And at the end of August, our collective perseverance finally paid off! Senior post office officials, including our area manager, came to inspect the premises and assured us that this post office would be able to open again. After this initial meeting, things began to move quickly; the old equipment was taken away and the old phone line was disconnected so that it could be upgraded and this is when we hit the big glitch!

The old post office line was the only line…and the number that was activated for our service provider! Whoooops! Well, it was a case of now you have it, now you don’t…so no real warning. The phone company, BT, was great; the phones were off on Thursday night and by Monday we had a new line but the service provider needed ten to fourteen days to switch their service so dial up was the only way.

All in all, although I whined and whinged like crazy, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The biggest concern for us was linking up with our houseguests for that weekend, an American family who had travelled halfway across the world from Tanzania and whom we had never met. We couldn't rely on cell phones; out here, cell/mobile phones don’t really work and inside our building the thick, stone walls effectively block any hope of a signal. But the visitors made it all the way to Otter Ferry and the weekend went off without a hitch. Best of all, we finally got to meet (and thank) the missionaries who looked after our son Joshua when he had malaria earlier this year, and share our little patch of paradise with them.

Now, a few weeks later, the whole phone/broadband incident is fading. There are a lot of exciting changes happening around here, the best of which is the anticipated opening of our country shop/gallery/post office, hopefully before the New Year! And overdue updates about my very mixed results with gardening in this unknown (misunderstood) climate – speaking of which, it’s getting cold so I’m off to bring my (very tender) un-named mint inside for the night!

Reflections…

2007-09-02T20:13:00.000+02:00

Several weeks ago, when Internet access was unspeakably slow and I wasn’t keeping up with my favourite blogs, Horizon nominated me for a Reflective Blogger award. Thank you so much Sarah; once again I find myself in some great company.

I’m a little unsure of the terms of this award but would like to “pay it forward”. And, just as with the Thinking Blogger Award, I’m nominating one blog I have been “lurking” around for a while now…hmmm, seems I need these incentives to get brave and introduce myself.

My Messy, Thrilling Life

Brin is the very talented and motivated owner of one of those lovely old Southern (does Texas qualify as ‘Southern’?) houses. She decorates, cooks, sews, gardens and a whole lot more beside but she also inspires and does so with guts and chutzpah.

Arty-Fartying-Around

Suzi has been around since I started blogging. Apart from being a brilliant artist, she brings Africa to life and when homesickness hits, I head over to her for a dose of “the old country” and her wonderful photos.

Just as in the “States”, this weekend represents the imminent end of summer. Most schools that have not already gone back do so this week. Here in these northern latitudes the nights are drawing in and we are in complete dark by about ten every night.

Today started overcast and drizzly but a wind blew up and scattered the clouds and we were out like a shot. The laundry actually made it into the sunshine and wind today. No fabric conditioner around can capture that wonderful smell of fresh, line dried washing! M finally got the chance to trim the front hedge that was growing out in all directions and we took stock of the garden’s progress. The hedge looks great but as for the rest …well, I’m not so sure. Let’s just say it’s been a real learning curve… As I said in spring, I’ll take pictures to illustrate the highs and lows of our gardening season and the “progress” we have made. And as I write, I’m being given a rare treat…the late afternoon sun is streaming in the window and the loch is sparkling. Time to play “hooky” and pop out for a quick walk.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

And Then There Was Nothing?

2007-08-26T17:04:00.000+02:00

I nearly lost August completely! Take two Internet junkies and remove their “fix” and you have us…worse than a two pack a day smoker suddenly finding himself marooned on a deserted desert island. Never has broadband connection meant so much to me and if I complain about the slowness of my local connection again, may I be forced to write (by hand) ten thousand times “Never forget that dial-up is your only other option”. It’s amazing just how many things can happen in two weeks and I shall be spending these last few remaining days of August trying to catch up with myself here. The whys and wherefores of how we came to be broadband-less form part of this mini saga. We knew it was coming but expected some warning; instead, the day before visitors arrived for the weekend, everything was gone…no phone, no Internet, nothing (and we don’t have mobile/cell phone signals out here)! Three days later and the new line was in place but our service provider had to switch our service to the new number and that’s what’s taken the time. Until that was accomplished, we had to contend with a dial-up connection.

I actually thought that all could continue as normal and I would be able to read and comment as usual. I knew it would be slower, but “hey, how slow can you go?” Ohoooo Boy! Was I ever naïve (stupid, un-informed) and spoilt! If I could get on line - and that was a big ‘if’ (most times the server was giving a ‘busy’ signal) I would work my way through e-mail first and then try to get into Blogland. This is where the real problems started. Click to open and wait, and wait…and you guessed it, wait some more. Go off, make a cup of tea, and come back and nothing! Read five chapters of War and Peace, do the dishes, have a bath and maybe (if the connection didn’t fail) the page would have opened! OK, so it’s an exaggeration, but not much and because of work and other things happening, not to mention the frustration, I just gave up. So here is my public apology to everyone who has left comments, asked questions and sent emails...I will catch up over the next few days.

In the meantime, the Heather that was showing its first buds in the pictures on my last post, has dusted the countryside with patches of purpley, mauvey, dusty pink! And here are some photos showing that pink and green can and do, look heart-stoppingly gorgeous together.

Whoops! The pink doesn't show up here? It's there, promise...I'll get another, better picture!

For everyone who has asked about the sunset so late at night as shown here; for weeks in mid summer culminating on the longest day, we have a progressively paler dusk, never completely night and then gradually, as the season progresses, the nights get darker and darker. I can’t be very specific; we have only lived here for ten months and it’s been a very overcast summer, which hides just how light the nights are. I think we have only seen the moon a handful of times. But, if for any reason we wake up in the night, we have acquired the habit of going to the window and looking out over the loch because it is so incredibly lovely in the dusky half-light.

This picture was taken on the twentieth of August at 20:56 (four minutes to nine in the evening)

Over the Hills and Far Away...

2007-08-14T21:47:00.000+02:00

Our little hamlet of Otter Ferry is in a very remote area, miles away from any town of substance. We like it this way and prefer the still, quiet beauty of this unspoilt spot over any of the “perks” associated with a more urban lifestyle. I love it, isolation and all, and refer to our infrequent trips to town as going “over the hills and far away”!

These pictures were taken on our last shopping expedition and show the road over the mountains/hills behind Otter Ferry and the countryside we travel through to get to town.

In this photo, the road is just visible in the middle of the trees.

The top of the mountain, looking back toward Otter Ferry.

Coming down the mountain, heading for town.

The farm in the valley at the bottom of the mountain...

The next valley...halfway there!

Bastille Day …weekend? Part III

2007-07-28T17:39:00.000+02:00

The gorgeous evening was topped off by a fantastic fireworks display but it proved difficult to photograph against the backdrop of a turquoise twilight. As the last puff of smoke drifted off into the night sky, applause from the spectators on the shore and in the boats carried out over the loch and signalled the end of a perfect day!

The display started at about 11 pm...

By 11:30 pm it was over...

The sounds of a guitar, quiet talk and soft laughter lasted ‘til well after midnight but Sunday had arrived and the great Boules championship would soon begin!

Bastille Day … Weekend? Part II

2007-07-27T22:09:00.000+02:00

The mama Panda and baby were made and donated by Christine to raffle for the charities...

The Steam trains were popular with young and old...

The ladies at the baked goods stall had lots of tasty treats...

Flowers and plants were very popular... We found a rare, varigated mint to add to our collection...

The dogs are Irish Deer Hounds (more neighbours) and they are big! Unfortunately the picture doesn't adequately show their size...

Crepes (pancakes) freshly made, were sold on and off all day...

Bastille Day … Weekend? Part I

2007-07-27T20:30:00.000+02:00

With all that’s been happening here, I’m very behind with the latest from our patch of Scotland! One of the biggest events of the Otter Ferry calendar for the last 15 years has been the Bastille Day weekend (14th and 15th of this month). This year was our first and also our last…first for obvious reasons (being new residents) and last because Alain and Dorothy, of the Oystercatcher Pub and Restaurant, are moving back to France at the end of the year. They are going to be hugely missed…but that is a whole other story; in the meantime, these people sure know how to throw a party!

A terrific storm the night before dumped plenty of rain on the scene but Saturday dawned partly totally cloudy, wet and windy and then it just got better and better. By noon, the sun was winning and shone down on the yachts bobbing on the sparkling water, and on the cars that overflowed the parking lot and lined the roadside in every direction.

Despite the sunshine, the breeze remained cool until the afternoon and the start of the festivities was heralded by the sound of the Scottish smallpipes, (shown in the photo) beautifully played by Jim, who together with his lovely wife Ann, lives just up the road.

Community involvement meant that many of the neighbours were out and about. Jumble and second-hand books, model steam trains, a bouncy castle, raffles, baked goods, flowers and plants, crepes, hand made greeting cards and hamburgers on the grill gave visitors lots to do. The bustle down on the waters edge saw many motorboats docking at the pontoon and plenty of people enjoyed the ambience (and a cold drink) from the tables set out on the grass. All in all, some 500+ people joined in to mark the weekend. Proceeds from sales and raffles benefited the British Heart Foundation and the Cowal Hospice to a total of £426.36.

Canopies protected some of the stalls and others were out in the open but the rain stayed away for the whole weekend. This must have been appreciated by those who found themselves in one of the many tents that had sprung up like mushrooms on the grass in the back garden of the OC and others that spilled out onto the edges of the roadside...

Note: I'm posting in sections 'cause for some strange reason I can only upload a few pictures at a time

And then I uploaded this one twice! Sigh...sorry.

Another View of the Loch…

2007-07-19T22:48:00.000+02:00

For the last month, I have been working at a little restaurant, fifteen miles up the loch, commuting to and fro along the single-track road I wrote about here. The drive is beautiful, the scenery breathtaking and I count my blessings that I live and work in such a lovely place. Driving to work in the mornings I see some of our neighbours on the way; a red deer doe, in an open meadow, stands watching me as I drive past. A bit further on, there is a twenty or thirty yard section of the verge that is both playground and pantry for a group of rabbits. One of the last characters on my journey is a magnificent pheasant cock (just like the one below) who spends every morning on a certain section of old stonewall; he is so punctual that if I don’t see him, I know I’m either too early or too late! There are many others, but these ones are notable for their consistency.

It’s been interesting… finding myself back in the ranks of the workforce; jobs are few and far between out here. When I heard about this position, as a chef, I was disbelieving…the hours are so good and the situation so pleasant that I had to give it a shot and I’m enjoying it immensely! Perfect fit, I guess!

There’s no doubt about it, the transition back to working woman hasn’t been all smooth; my blog, for one has suffered while I adjusted to my new schedule, but one month on I am getting on top of the new hours. Having a husband who is willing to get to grips with thorny issues like dishes and bathrooms is absolutely recommended but M has taken this role to another level altogether! I’ve had new curtain rods installed throughout the house and the curtains all hung (first week), a steam cleaned and streamlined kitchen (second week), a re-designed and re-decorated bathroom (third and fourth weeks) and all accomplished in between M’s usual workshop, garden and internet tasks…now we just have to finishing editing all our photo’s and I will update with the happenings here at Otter Ferry!

A Little Something…

2007-07-03T22:36:00.000+02:00

Since we’re not the only ones experiencing confusing weather and many of us are wet as well as chilly, here’s a recipe that’s a great antidote for grey days! I've made this cake twice in the last three days and it's really worth the effort...you get a lot of very tasty cake for very little effort!

This cake’s a cinch to make; keeps for a week (if it lasts that long) and gets better each day. It’s deep, dark and delicious with a fragrant aroma redolent of exotic islands and faraway lands and best of all you can adjust the spice to suit you and your family. I like to chop up crystallised ginger and add it at the end but you could substitute pecan nuts or bittersweet chocolate chips or just add all three if you can’t make up your mind. And should the sun come out, like ours did yesterday for a little while, try a piece with a scoop of good vanilla ice cream…yummy!

Old Fashioned Gingerbread Cake

Preheat oven to 180 degrees C - Grease and flour a 9 by 13 inch / 23 by 33 cms cake pan

1 ½ cups self-raising flour
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 - 3 tsp ground cinnamon
1 - 2 tsp ground mixed spice
2 – 3 tsp ground powdered ginger
4 tsp cocoa powder
4 large eggs
1 cup soft brown sugar, firmly packed
1 cup plain yogurt, soured milk or buttermilk
½ cup molasses
1 cup melted butter
½ cup chopped crystallised ginger or chopped pecans or bittersweet chocolate chips

Sift the first eight ingredients together into a suitable bowl. Beat the eggs with a whisk or mixer in a large mixing bowl until foamy. Add the sugar and the next three ingredients, beating until well mixed. Fold in the flour mixture and the ginger pieces until combined, don’t over mix. Put batter into prepared pan and jiggle it until level. Bake in preheated oven for 35 to 45 minutes until the centre springs back when lightly touched and the sides have shrunk slightly, away from the pan’s edges.

Allow to cool slightly then glaze with the following:

Juice of one fresh lemon
Enough Icing sugar to make a paste the consistency of thick cream

Mix until smooth and then pour in the middle of the still-warm cake and spread evenly over the middle. The glaze should seep to the edges as it cools.

(Note - this recipe makes 16 to 20 portions, great for sharing!)

The pictures were taken in the kitchen and just outside the window is our un-mowable lawn! Un-mowable because it's too wet right now for our mower. The grass is about the only thing growing out there; all the herbs and flowers are just waiting. The chili plants, an experiment I'll admit, haven't grown since they were planted out over a month ago so I think I'll have to bring them in and put them on a sunny windowsill. Oops! What sun?

Hope you’re all enjoying the summer, whatever the weather, and for those of you in America, have a happy, safe Fourth of July!

The End of Summer...Already?

2007-07-01T00:47:00.000+02:00

This may sound like a complaint… it isn’t. In our early years of farming, we learnt to live with and not complain about the weather, whatever weather we got. Weather watching is something we enjoy and as the new kids on the block, we watch and (hopefully) learn. But as I dig our winter comforter and hot water bottles out of storage on this last day of June, I’m pondering the whole phenomena of climate change and how it impacts on us in this first decade of the 21st century.

Before we left Africa, climate change was an accepted fact in our corner of the southern hemisphere; this may have been prompted by those holes in the ozone located very near us (over Antarctica) and the drift of popular opinion in our old ecologically aware society! Whatever the reasons, drastic changes in local weather patterns coupled with National Geographic reports, increased incidents of skin cancer and news of extreme weather around the globe provided persuasive evidence of Global Warming. But most interesting of all for us, has been to discover that here in the ‘frozen north’ (no it’s not that bad – I’m just being dramatic) climate change is a matter of opinion; there are some people who don’t believe it’s a man made effect, but rather a natural Earth cycle.

Because gardening is something we love to do, we have ongoing conversations with local inhabitants about the conditions that prevail here and what we can expect in the way of weather. And the results after eight months; winter was too long but too mild, spring lived up to advanced billing only by being totally unpredictable and summer…well maybe it’s still coming?
Meanwhile spare a thought for those in Britain, Asia and Australia who have been flooded out of their homes this June. So no, I’m not complaining, just commenting on the weather whose only certainty is just how uncertain it has become!

Until then, out come the jackets and the woollies, ditto the big comforter and the hot water bottles and now I’m really wishing I’d bought some flannel sheets on the end of season sales.Speaking to our sons in Johannesburg on Wednesday night as snow began to fall there for the first time in 26 years, we could hardly complain about the cold. But then it is winter in the southern hemisphere… where did the Scottish summer go?

The Colour Green…

2007-06-22T22:05:00.000+02:00

'Green' has been a subject that has frequently popped into my conversations lately. Not long ago a fellow artist and I were discussing the use of this colour in our work and just how difficult mixing pleasing and harmonious shades, tones and hues of green can be. There is a belief that ‘green’ paintings, in general do not sell as well as those predominantly in other hues and I can understand why; there are few colours that are uglier to me than an ugly green!

When I was growing up I loved green with a passion, I even had a bedroom painted an excruciatingly ‘acid’ shade of lime green for a while. That green, along with a strident pink and an equally robust orange formed one of the key palettes of the late sixties and I’m sure this explosion of colour led to the fondness for the browns and creams of the seventies. But I digress! Back to green…still a singularly favourite colour but now just one of many!

For the past few days, I have been driving via the coastal route to the little village of Strachur, fifteen miles north up the loch. This is the direction from which we came when we first viewed our new home but because the other route over the hills is quicker for shopping, that is the one we usually use.

The first impression along this coastal road is green, green and more green…dappled, mossy, shiny, soft green, every hue and tone imaginable. I begin my journey on the typical loch-side drive; a single tarred ribbon with pastures one side and glistening water on the other. Across the water, the hills on the other side rise from the shore in puffy, patchwork patterns; a kaleidoscopic crazy quilt of soft greens tossed over a rocky frame.

Just a short distance on, the ribbon plunges into deep green tunnels through the forest lit by thousands of tiny shafts of sunlight. If you were to pause, pull over and switch off the engine, the only sound would be the distant rushing of a small burn as it tumbles away to the loch.

Continuing again, the road winds imperceptibly upwards as it wends around a hill and as suddenly as it began, the tunnel gives way to a feathery corridor open to the sky. Silver Birch, Rowan, willow, beech and ash line the route with scented honeysuckle dripping down here, there and bracken and ferns everywhere. As you climb, the undulations become more apparent and rounding a corner, you find you’re on a mountainside with stone walls holding the edges from dropping down to miniature beaches below.

And so it goes, repeating this pattern over and over many times until the narrow track meets the main road some twelve miles on. Here and there are clumps of tall yellow flag iris, an occasional pink wild rose, an ivy covered stump or two, mounds of purple rhododendrons and many smaller wildflowers I’ve yet to name. Sometimes the vegetation clears and the tiny stony beaches show themselves and sometimes other inhabitants; a family of oystercatchers strolling along surprise me on a small stone bridge while further on, two rabbits dart across the road. Civilisation is represented in the handful of dwellings along the way, cottages and wooden cabins, and lastly passing through the edge of one of the old estates, a few family houses. They signal the beginning of the end! A half an hour or so has passed when the road swings away from the loch and continues over a heather clad hillside only to end abruptly at the highway. Three miles along this modern artery takes me into Strachur, forty-plus more and I would be in Glasgow, Scotlands' largest city!

All this abundance of natural beauty owes a lot to the fact that the Highlands are the wettest area of the UK with the annual rainfall averaging more than a 120 inches (3000 mm)! The area of South Africa where we lived was also very lush and beautiful for three or four months of the year. In fact some places are so similar to Scotland that many Scottish immigrants chose to live there after the dust from the Boer War had settled, in the beginning of the last century. But whereas Scotland goes from green to greener and flowering, in Africa all that greenness fades to fawn until the next rainy season. The big difference is that the rainfall in Mpumalanga* (the old Eastern Transvaal) averages under 40 inches (1000mm) annually, only a third of or less than Scotland.

*For those adventurous enough to try, this is pronounced something sounding like mmm-poo-ma-lung-ga which means ‘the place where the sun rises’ in the languages of siSwati and Zulu.

The Story Continues…

2007-06-13T22:13:00.000+02:00

The following account is how life unfolded after A Valentine’s Story, Part II ended. You can read about the beginning in part one here and in part two here. This was what happened in those early years, before our sons were born.

The South Africa that M and I started our married life in was vastly different from the cosy, colonial outpost that I had left twelve years previously when I joined my mother in the US. The country's independence from the UK had come in 1961, just two years before I left for America. Many of the changes were subtle, not obvious to the casual observer but the pendulum had swung and there was no going back. What was not immediately apparent was that the country I had longed for was already gone.

We married in January 1976 in Johannesburg and set up home on M’s farm some 60 miles to the east, on the savannah of the old Transvaal highveld (present day Mpumalanga). His family had been on this land since 1907 and owned an estate measured in miles rather than acres. This was divided into seven family farms of roughly the same size. Each farm was owned by one of M’s relatives, his father having the original manor house to the east of us and M’s younger brother farming to the south; the remaining five properties were occupied by cousins, great-uncles and uncles.

Our first home was a simple, whitewashed, two–room cottage with no electricity and a ‘Donkey’ (44 gallon drum) boiler for hot water. Tucked away in the gentle folds of low-lying hills, the cottage had been built in a small, flat, hidden valley; surrounded by dams, protected by eucalyptus windbreaks and dotted with weeping willows. Wildlife was abundant with small buck, jackals, foxes, rabbits and birdlife attracted by the water and the shelter of the trees. The building dated back to the early years of the Witwatersrand gold rush and was very basic, although M had installed running water and a bathroom but that was the extent of the modernisation! Without electricity, there were few 20th century distractions, we lived a fairytale life; meals were cooked on gas or over the open fire in the boma and after the lamps had been lit, evenings were spent reading or painting. I sewed my quilts and patchwork on an old-fashioned treadle Singer machine and the modern world was far away. Life was simple and we loved it. The farm had been used for raising mealies (white corn) and sunflower for many years and M was busy turning some fields into Teff and Eragrostis pastures to provide fodder for the robust Johannesburg horse racing industry. These crops were planted and then cut two or three times in a season to be baled and stored for sale in the winter when the need was greater and prices were higher.

An Mpumalanga Farm

Having a farm meant labour and not only male labour. I was soon putting in a long day driving our jeep; towing the trailer behind M’s tractor as he baled the feed, cut early that morning. The workers would walk alongside using pitchforks to load the bales up onto the trailer where another worker would pack them neatly. Often we would find ourselves locked in a desperate race with the weather as we fought to get the morning’s cut off the lands before a highveld thunderstorm ruined the quality of our product. It was hard work and intensely satisfying after my seemingly superficial life in Los Angeles; this was elemental living, close to nature, and when dusk came we would sit on our stoep (veranda), drinking a glass of wine, and watch the birds come in to roost in the willow trees overhanging the dam. But it wasn't all mud and dust and toil; every six weeks or so we’d head for the bright lights and malls of Johannesburg and spend a day shopping, not just foodstuffs but real retail therapy. The cottage needed all sorts of domestic paraphernalia and after a long and lazy lunch, we would spend time exploring the shops for bits and pieces. These small breaks gave us our necessary dose of modern civilisation but I don’t know if we really appreciated the extent to which we had “the best of both worlds”!

Life changed dramatically with the arrival of our first son toward the end of 1977 and we prepared to leave our little cottage and move to the main homestead on our farm, nearly two miles up the hill. This large farmhouse was a basic ‘40’s dwelling, well built, solid and ‘oh so dull’ with electricity and full plumbing but no charm. To bring electricity from the local substation and have the cottage wired was prohibitively expensive and sad preparations to move began. We left behind our little, traditional style house with its wooden windows and doors, Oregon pine floors and long stoep. We said goodbye to the green lawns sweeping down to the willows by the dams and fountains, and left our boma* with the sandy floor. Although we couldn’t have known it at the time, we had said goodbye to the Africa we loved.

* A boma (pronounced boom-a by local tribes) is a circular enclosure of reeds, heavy grass or thorn bush, made for people to eat and sleep in. An entry point is started on the outside of the circle and continues for some distance until it opens into the enclosure, forming a narrow corridor which is then closed with Thorn-tree branches to keep predators out. Livestock was traditionally housed in a similar structure known as a goma (goom-a).

They’ve Gotta Be Kidding…Right?

2007-06-06T17:16:00.000+02:00

I’m not a controversial sort of person, I don’t involve myself in politics and avoid inflammatory subjects generally but this is too much!

This is the winning logo for the 2012 Olympics to be held in London! Is it only me, or is this seriously UGLY, never mind does it qualify as good design?

I have so many questions for the people responsible for this choice. Have they thought that for the next five years, everyone in the UK, visitors and residents alike, are going to be bombarded with this image ad nauseam? And what does it say about British design? As a long time anglophile, I’m embarrassed by this shoddy example of UK talent, never mind UK style. Look how many years it has taken for British cuisine to recover from the terrible reputation gained during post war shortages (WWI and WWII). Come to think of it… has it recovered yet?

Sometimes the pursuit of the trendy and avant-garde stomps all over good judgement, good taste and national pride. Why couldn’t we have something stirring, inspiring even, something to unite the masses with patriotic fervour? OK, asking too much; how about something just nice to look at? Like this one...

Even the BBC was asking viewers to vote for their favourite out of the five designs short-listed.
See some of the other logos here. The debacle continues with revelations that footage created for promoting the 2012 Olympics can trigger epileptic seizures! For more of the latest stories just go to the link above.

Many thousands are now calling for the logo to be replaced, so maybe this inappropriate choice is accomplishing one thing … uniting the nation?

So, it’s not just me … whew!

Three Weddings and a Drizzle…

2007-06-03T21:41:00.000+02:00

June arrived in the highlands with three weddings and a drizzle! Well, I’m sure there were more than three weddings but hey, just in our ‘neck of the woods’!

Thursday and Friday, I was invited to help a friend with wedding flowers for one of the celebrations; it was a great experience and I got to learn a lot about the plants and flowers that grow here. Having done plenty of flowers over the years I found it somewhat different but also very much the same.

When I joined my friend on Thursday, the glorious stars of the show (dozens of peonies) were waiting at the venue, safe inside the cool gloom of an old stone farm building. We spent several hours in a beautiful garden cutting swathes of heady lilac, bunches of fragrant, flowering herbs, honeysuckle and armfuls of feathery greenery while the sun shone steadily, warming the cool wind. After a few hours, it seemed there would be enough material to support the stars and the buckets were loaded into vehicles and taken the ten miles to the venue, a beautiful castle on the edge of a loch. Similar to this one...

Friday was devoted to the arrangements, many small ones for the dining tables and large, dramatic ones for the castle, church and marquee. Working in the lovely stone building, surrounded by the wonderful scent of flowers, was delightful and even though the sun was beating down, we were comfortably cool. Despite the huge trees that shaded the grounds, the day was so warm; we had to leave the flowers for the marquee stored safely inside the stone building, waiting for the cool of early morning to move them.

And Saturday was cool, cool and grey; in fact it was drizzling lightly. Maybe not the best of weather, but the whole venue looked lovely, the marquee was stunning and the joy of the celebration would have lit up the day anyway.

Back at home; another wedding was taking place at the pub, the second one this week! The couple had wanted a beach ceremony and our first indication that festivities had started was the sound of bagpipes drifting into the house. There were vintage cars for the wedding party, buses for the guests and kilted pipers for the music and then there was the rain. A traditional Scottish wedding…well, the weather is traditionally unpredictable. So, I guess that rain, sun, wind, whatever… well that’s tradition too!

Going doon the watter…

2007-05-23T19:29:00.000+02:00

The Loch is an endless source of amusment and fascination; daily we watch water birds and waders as they perform acrobatics in the pursuit of food and every morning just before daybreak, the Mallard Duck family come and rootle along the shore, searching out tasty tidbits. Weekends bring assorted watercraft, piloted with varying degrees of skill, and occasionally there will be a seaplane (for variety). Just how much we still have to discover about our new neighbourhood was brought home this weekend when we started out for a walk and saw something very big out on the loch…no, not a whale, although we live in hope! What had us scurrying for the camera was this…

The paddle steamer, Waverley, built in 1946, is the last remaining sea-going paddle steamer in the world. Originally Waverley was one of over 300 Clyde steamers that started service in 1812 with Henry Bell’s Comet and were still operating in the early 1960’s. Named after Walter Scott’s first novel, this elegant steamer sails a full season of cruises every year from her base in the Firth of Clyde. The Waverley was built on the Clyde in 1946 as a replacement for the original PS Waverley of 1899 that took part in WWII, working as a minesweeper. The original Waverley was sunk in 1940 while helping with the evacuation of troops from Dunkirk. Her replacement was launched in Glasgow in 1946. You can read the whole story here.

The revival of pre-war fortunes in the 1950’s and 1960’s saw a change in holiday preferences which led to a decline in passenger numbers and competition from new forms of holiday travel brought the era almost to a close. The paddle steamer Waverley still continues to provide the leisurely delights of Clyde steamer excursions thanks to the efforts of the Paddle Steamer Preservation Society (PSPS). Every trip serves as a reminder of the time when holidaymakers swarmed onto steamers to go doon the watter, sailing from Glasgow down the Firth of Clyde to the seaside holiday resorts and quiet West Highland piers. The 1900 steamer SS Sir Walter Scott still sails on Loch Katrine, while on Loch Lomond, the PS Maid of the Loch is being restored.

With a restaurant and bar on board, an excursion on the PS Waverley, sounds like a great way to get close to sealife and explore some of the lovely coast around here, accompanied by the rhythm of paddle wheels and steam engines.

The Dreaded Scottish Midge?...

2007-05-17T19:55:00.000+02:00

All day the mist has hung low over the loch, lifting now and then revealing tantalising glimpses
of the opposite shore. The last few days have given us slightly cool, slightly grey and non-windy weather. Perfect for gardening and perfect for the emergence of the famous, dreaded, scary Scottish midge; the tiny insect with the huge reputation! We began to hear the advanced publicity within a week or two of our arrival but didn’t pay too much attention…I mean summer was still a way off and we had more pressing problems to deal with.

May arrived and with the soft spring weather bringing less rain and wind we have headed into the garden to start our massive clean-up and clear-out program. One evening at supper after an afternoon outdoors, M began scratching some small bumps on the back and two fingers of his right hand; application of a antihistamine ointment stopped the itch and we thought nothing of it…just some ‘funny’ gogo (SA word for unknown insect) in the garden. The weather became windy for a few days and then rainy and we worked in between the showers. Three days ago, after another late afternoon in the garden making a new bit of lawn, M came it scratching some small bumps on his abdomen. Once again the ointment worked well but now we were suspicious…could it be? It most certainly could and it probably was…the terrible, bloodthirsty Scottish midge!

OK so the time has come, now we must find out how to get rid of these things. Hoping to find an entry or two on the Internet, I googled ‘Scottish midge’ and received 106,000 results! Oh my goodness, that’s a lot of results for such a small and insignificant insect. Big brave African adventurer that I am (think Tsetse Fly, African ticks, Anopheles Mosquito), I’m thinking, ‘how bad can a midge be?’ Well, very bad, as it turns out! The Scottish or Highland midge (Culicoides Impunctus) is expected to cost Scottish Tourism an estimated £286 million this year.

A large amount of research is going into the development of reliable midge forecasting (read all about it here, Latest on midges) which will enable tourists to plan their visit to Scotland and as midge populations can be quite localised, visitors should be able to plan trips to midge-free locations. Dr Alison Blackwell explains: "By the end of the summer we should have enough data to do forecasts with confidence. It would go quite nicely with the pollen data on the weather forecasts." And where does that leave us and all the other unfortunate residents of prime Midge country here on the west coast of Scotland? Well, I can only speak for us and we are going the repellent route for now. I’ve invested heavily in the stock at our local Health shop, purchasing two different organic options and as back up, I also bought an “all natural” option from the pharmacy. Hopefully one of these will work. If not, there are still a couple of dozen others to choose from, including one from an Internationally known cosmetic company. Ahhh I should order some...maybe midge-free beauty will work for me!

In the meantime, this is where I’d like to be, on the shore reading in the sun!

I’ve Been Tagged…

2007-05-07T09:11:00.000+02:00

Jessie LaVon, over at Purple Cucumbers Folk Art has tagged me and now I have to tag my favourite five blogs here. Thanks Jessie, you’ve tagged some very talented people and I’m humbled to be included in such good company.

Jessie is one of the bravest, friendliest people I’ve had visit my blog; she had an AVM a while back and uses her colourful paintings as a means of capturing and recording her memories. She also hosts fun things like her recent ’Porch Party’ and is currently running a swap, so go on over to Purple Cucumbers to read more about her and see her real southern folk art.

I am totally incapable of singling out five blogs from my favourites, which are all the ones in my links on the right. They are absolutely the best and are always great to read. What I am going to do is tell you a quick story of how I went moonlighting at Co*ntry L*ving’s website and for a short time, tried to write two blogs.

For my birthday this year, I was given a subscription to my favourite magazine…Co*ntry L*ving. While going through my first edition, I saw that they had just started a website and were inviting readers to participate. The magazine was looking for a new columnist and dangled this 'carrot' to encourage would-be bloggers. Typically, I thought GREAT and jumped right in, not even pausing to consider I had an armful of unfinished paintings, a website to finish and a blog already to keep me busy. I lasted almost three weeks. Blogger is a delight to work on, quick, and user friendly and pretty much self-explanatory. The CL site was for me (techie dinosaur that I am) an absolute nightmare…but there were so many fabulous, funny people writing there!

It soon became clear that I’d over reached and I stopped posting and then had to catch up with some of my real work. When I went back to CL to visit, I discovered there had been some cataclysmic problem with the competition and all the best and brightest had left for pastures new. Fortunately, on a farewell post on one of their blogs, I found a link to where they’d gone… Children, Chocolate and Wine. This is really a directory and bulletin board of the ex-CL bloggers…the names on the right hand side there will take you to the individual blogs. And in the meantime as a taster here are four of these new blogs I am currently reading:

Dear Diary

Her On The Hill

Exmoor Jane

Muddyboots

The rules of the tag are as usual; each one of the 'tagged' must, in turn, pick five of their favourites to tag on their blogs.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I have!

And Now For Something Completely Different...

2007-05-03T15:06:00.000+02:00

Somehow in all the months I’ve been blogging, I have managed to avoid writing anything about food! Amazing, since my two favourite pastimes, after playing with my paints or digging in the garden, have to be cooking and eating. This little piece of paradise has most needs sorted out for its residents; the fish truck comes around once a week with fresh seafood and lovely vegetables and fruit, the library bus is here once a month, wood and other fuels are delivered and, for a price, a national supermarket chain even brings groceries. All that’s lacking is a really decent, fresh loaf of bread!

No problem! I’m an old bread baking veteran well versed in the lore of yeasts and starters so armed with ‘Old Faithful’ (my tried and tested recipe that erupts with risen goodness), several packets of organic whole wheat flour, freshly bought yeast and our lovely spring water, I prepared for battle! Six loaves later, I was ready to surrender. Each and every batch had produced a wonderful first rise, functioned perfectly with the second rise and come out of the oven like a well formed brick! Inedible, only we ate them…there wasn’t anything else. Sandwiches were out of the question; too far from the dentist to risk a broken tooth, cheese or pate on bread was unwise and toast…well you can only imagine!

Lacking books, I did what any IT savvy, self-respecting rookie would do; I turned to the Blogosphere. Following on the great success I’ve had with inspiration, focus, and motivation I decided to take my bread problem to the experts out in Blogland. Of course this meant plenty of lurking on food blogs…oh boy what riches are there for the picking! Hunger; however, kept me focussed and it wasn’t long before I found answers here at Farm Girl Fare, thanks Susan!

Results of all of this were encouraging; the loaf was satisfyingly dense but not at all stodgy with a lovely wheaty taste. I’m going to experiment with using a loaf pan and if it works, this recipe will be hard to beat as an everyday loaf, not just tasty but time saving and so very easy to make.
Although this bread has been doing the rounds since November of last year, the recipe seems to be confined to the US and Canada. Originally the brainchild of New York baker, Jim Lahey, the recipe appeared in The New York Times last year and originally used white flour but works with almost any type of bread flour. I have used both stone ground whole-wheat flour and malted grain whole-wheat flour with equal success. The free form shape doesn’t work too well for sandwiches but according to Susan, she has successfully used loaf pans with this recipe. This will be my next experiment; the only change I made was to cut the salt to a scant teaspoon. Oh, and the bread in the photo was baked in an ordinary stainless steel roaster as my heavy pot was in service, full of Tuscan Bean Soup.

No – Knead Bread

Time: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, with more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Wheat bran or extra flour as needed

In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 and 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest (rise) at least 12 hours, preferably 18, at warm room temperature (about 21 degrees C, 70 degrees F).

Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour work surface and place dough on it (it is very sloppy); sprinkle it with a bit more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice (I found it too sloppy and used about ½ a cup, folding 4 or 5 times to incorporate). Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest for about 15 minutes.

Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton tea towel (not towelling) with flour or bran; put dough seam side down on this towel and dust with flour or bran. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 more hours. When ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not spring back readily when poked with a finger.

At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 400 - 450 degrees (depending on your oven). Put a heavy, covered, 6 to 8 quart pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in the oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under the towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look a mess, but that’s OK. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake about another 15 - 30 minutes until the loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack. Makes one 1½ pound loaf.

One Day Blog Silence...

2007-04-30T15:08:00.000+02:00

In memory of the victims at Virginia Tech and for all victims of violence around the world.

www.onedayblogsilence.com

Don’t Try To Sneak a Sunrise Past a Rooster…

2007-04-26T21:06:00.000+02:00

The rooster, Henry VII, has finally had his finishing touches completed and he is ready to take his place on the website. It has taken time but I have changed the whole way I work. Part of my problem with this process has been the fact that I would work on one painting at a time, becoming horribly frustrated when reaching an impasse. The painting of the moment would be in very real danger of death by gesso (painting over), as I would struggle to regain motivation. Now I have started a whole new approach and not surprisingly it was inspired by those of you out there who have struggled with your creative traumas and blogged about it.

One of the purposes here was to focus and become productive so on the days when I couldn’t pick up a brush; I trawled the Internet following links from one blogger to another. There is so much going on out there it’s amazing! First new concept was the ACEO, “art card, editions and originals”. These little paintings are the direct descendents of the ATC, Artist Trading Cards, developed in the 17th century by artists to trade with other artists in order to study each other’s technique and not intended to sell. The Impressionists were the first to open the ATC to the buying public when they began selling or exchanging their art cards for board and lodging or supplies. The ACEO is exactly the same as an ATC but is put out there by artists to sell. This practice is meant to augment their incomes, as well as increase their patronage. The venue for selling ACEOs currently seems to be restricted to eBay and a few websites. Early cards were not standardised, although they generally had to be smaller than 4” x 5”. The standard size for cards traded or sold today is 2 ½ “ x 3 ½ “ and the artist should sign and date the card on the back and also number it if it forms part of an edition.

The second concept is “The Daily Painting” or “Painting a Day” movement. I was blown away to discover that a number of artists are producing something new and exciting (and finished) every day, in the space of an hour or two! My introduction to this was thanks to Muddy Red Shoes (see links on right) who was turning out a huge quantity of quality work on a blog site she had set up for the purpose. I’ve since found other artists who are doing, or who did, paint a painting a day. The whole prospect sounds daunting at first; I mean I’ve been having trouble with a ‘Painting a Month’! Still, I’m going to explore it further and anyone interested in finding out more should just try googling in “painting a day” and see how many references there are!

All of this input led me to a lot of questions such as ‘why only one painting at a time’ and why stick to a standard size like 23” x 27” (for example)? Now I’ve got several paintings all in various stages of progress and I’m currently working on some ACEOs (with the help of a magnifying lamp - nicked from M's workshop) but most importantly, paintings are now getting finished so I guess the creative block is resolving itself. I really hope so…the garden is singing its siren songs again!

ACEO – Ewe plus two

The Day The Beach Was Cleaned…

2007-04-23T17:12:00.000+02:00

Today’s beautiful photo is courtesy of a talented neighbour; it was taken in August of 2005 and is an example of the glorious sunsets we are looking forward to. Thanks, Bob.

Beach clean up, an exercise in community spirit…a chance for everyone to get together, do something for our environment and have some fun. All of us here at Otter Ferry, pick up rubbish every time we walk on the beach…correction, most of us! The Official Beach Cleanup however, is an important event in the community calendar heralding the start of the season. It’s all very loosely defined really; the first visitors have been (and gone) over the Easter holidays but this is to get rid of unsightly junk, papers, etc and prepare the beach for the summer and a good excuse for a party!

This was our first year and somehow we managed to get it all wrong. Sunday dawned, grey and drizzly but by 2:25 pm the drizzle was gone and we girded up our loins, pocketed the camera, grabbed our cake/offering and set off for the Pub arriving at 2:31, one minute after the official launch time.

And…everybody had already left?
Were we going to let that deter us? You must be kidding! Leaving the cake as hostage, we trotted off after our leader and her advanced guard! And…we never found them.
After walking for nearly half an hour in the general direction they had headed, we decided we had somehow missed them. We turned around and re-traced our steps along the road, stopping and checking the beach ever so often but to no avail. Over an hour after leaving the house, we were back, thinking that we would keep an eye out for the group who would come from the other side, further up the Loch. The plan was then to run out and join them so that the “organising committee” would think we’d been with them all along. Well, they never materialised! Oh no!

I would have made a terrible reporter; I’d told all and sundry I was going to blog about the clean up and M would be taking photos. I’m always looking for interesting things to share here and our little community can be very interesting…but I have all the journalistic fervour of a sleepy sloth. Thanks to the timely intervention of our Chief Organiser and general Morale Booster, Dorothy of Otter Ferry Pub (The Oystercatcher) fame, I have a summary of the key points as they unfolded (beautifully written out and presented on a clean sheet of A4 today - give the girl an A+) – less than 24 hours after the event! Where does she find the time?

Re: Beach Clean 22nd April 2007

Our annual event went quite well (unusually)…almost seemed organised! Plenty of food arrived with homemade cakes, sandwiches, and sausage rolls, etc in abundance.

Even the two parties were of equal numbers; with five hardy souls from the Chalets and six not-so-hardy souls from the Big House end. There certainly was plenty of gossip from our end…as usual.

Even though the weather forecast was for rain, we were very lucky. More rubbish than last year, but nowhere near the mountain we had when we first started nine or ten years ago! Among our finds, the usual pieces of rope, string, plastic bottles, debris from bonfires and picnics, plus a few odd and mysterious “treasures” funnily enough by the same person. Firstly a raw leg of lamb…yes, raw? Later found out that said leg of lamb had gone off, so was put out for wildlife…ah! Secondly a more dangerous find that we decided was a flare, from one of the visiting boats. The big decision was whether it was still live or not? A vote (more gossip) found it best to just hide it in the rocks and let the owner retrieve it.

We all enjoyed ourselves and I’m sure we all slept better for the exercise, fresh air and of course, the gossip…

Thanks Dorothy.

We definitely will do our best to not miss next year’s event! Not realising the distance covered, we had undershot our mark by one cove. Had we continued up the road for another ten minutes we would have found them!

Friday's Finch...

2007-04-20T19:03:00.000+02:00

This pretty little bird showed up in the garden last week and stayed…as I write this I’m watching one of them scatching in the gravel outside my office window.

The goldfinch is not rare or endangered but this is the fist time we have had one in our garden. As usual, I had to identify the newcomer and then went online to get some background. I wasn’t going to write about this little bird (I don’t want to bore you all) but there are some interesting facts about goldfinches in history and I thought I would share some of them here.

Goldfinches were kept as caged birds for their song, a melodious silvery twittering, and during Victorian times they were successfully crossed with Canaries to produce prettier songbirds. The resulting birds (known as Mules) could not be bred with as they were sterile but they are still being raised today.

In the wild, goldfinches feed on small seeds from plants like thistles and teasels but will catch insects when raising their young. Because it eats from and nests in thorns and thistles, this bird is associated in Christian symbolism with the Passion and the Crown of Thorns and appears in paintings of the Madonna and Child. It is also an emblem of endurance, fruitfulness and persistence and during medieval times, the goldfinch was even used by some as a charm to ward off the plague.

At about five inches long and weighing a megre half ounce these are a lot of attributes for such a small bird but it’s a very pretty small bird!

The Thinking Blogger Award…

2007-04-17T21:06:00.000+02:00

For several days I have been trying to work out how to put links into my blog entry and the reason for this is the Thinking Blogger Award. I was nominated by Horizon over at Message in a Bottle (see link in sidebar)! Very humbling, considering that she was the original inspiration for this blog of mine in the first place! ‘Message in a Bottle’ is so special because Horizon is warm, friendly, funny, informative and she knows all the techno stuff and has links that work and videos too!

One of the conditions of the Award is that each person chosen must in turn nominate five of their favourites. This was a real conundrum for me; with so many brilliant Blogs, how does one choose? I was partly helped by the fact that others had already nominated some of my choices and this narrowed the field down a bit. The five I have chosen all have their own distinct merits but there are so many I would have chosen because you are all so good. I still haven’t managed to master the insertion of live links into my text but I have updated my favourites in the side bar so everyone I mention can be found there. I know it’s a bit of a pain (I’m very sorry –I’ll get some help soon, I promise) but go and have a look, you’ll be glad you did! I’ve had to come out and stop lurking on some blogs just to do this…I run out of time to comment but always mean to get around to it sometime.

Here, in no particular order, are my selections. All of these bloggers are exceptional, very different from each other but inspirational none the less. Remember, due to to my embarrassingly inept technical skills, the link to each blog is to be found in my list of Brilliant Blogs on the right.

The (French) Mountain Dweller - She and her French husband are running his family farm almost single handedly and are facing tremendous challenges, with guts, humour and good dose of panache!

Silver Apples of the Moon – Tara is a talented American illustrator and artist who manages to juggle her demanding life and numerous deadlines and still find the time to encourage others. Visit her blog and check out her new series of books.

Arty Fartying Around – Suzi is based in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. She is also an artist and takes the most brilliant photos all over South Africa.

The Bold Soul – Lisa is an American living in Paris. Her blog is often very funny and she is not afraid to put forth her point of view which results in some lively exchanges in the 'comments'.

An entertaining and personal slice of life in a beautiful city!

French Windows - Gigi - Another French blog, this one by a transplanted English rose, beautifully written, very interesting, accompanied by super pictures.

Zimbabwe…What About Zimbabwe? Part II

2007-04-16T19:17:00.000+02:00

M had grown up in the heart of the South African bushveld in the ‘50’s and ’60’s and in the early ‘70’s worked for expeditions into Botswana to the Okavango Swamps and the Central Kalahari Reserve (traditional home of the Bushman -"San" people). Reflecting on J’s bout with Malaria, I remembered M saying to him as he left Scotland for Zimbabwe “Remember J, it’s not the big things that are problems in the bush, it’s the little things.”

For the remainder of February and into March communication resumed the normal flow of e-mails back and forth. Use of the phone had stopped until such time as our bill recovered from J’s illness so when I answered a call towards the middle of March and heard him on the line, my heart gave an immediate lurch! What followed added at least ten years to my chronological age!

“Hi Mom, howzit?” (Standard issue South African slang derived from Cricket lingo.)
“We’re fine. What’s wrong?” (No beating about the bush here!)
“I’m at the hospital in Zxaqrebakeroro.” (Well, that’s what it sounded like! Arghhhhh, HOSPITAL!)
“Why?”
“Well remember that bite I told you about?” (Last e-mail asked about treating what appeared to be a spider bite on his lower leg)
“Yeah, yeah.” (Now I’m starting to relax, it probably got infected.)
“Well, the glands in my groin are huge and it (the bite) went black in the middle so I came here to the Outpatients.” (African version of Accident & Emergency)
“Good thing, what do they say?”
“I’m just waiting for the Environmental Officers.”
“What, Why?” (Here go the alarm bells again)
“They want to take a scraping”
“Why?” (I’m mentally packing and working out whom to borrow the airfare from!)
“They say its Anthrax.”
“WHAT???” (I’m way too old for this…I keep forgetting to breathe!)
“Relax, Mom. I’m OK.”
“How can you be OK? Anthrax is deadly!” (All I knew about Anthrax I learned from CNN!)
“No, they’ve given me the shots already. They say I’ll be fine. Bloody sore shots though. “

The officials came and scraped, and took the samples off for the tests. That was nearly five weeks ago and J still hasn’t had a chance to drive the tortuously long road back to the government hospital to pick up the results. He feels fine, completing the course of medicines that was given along with the injections. Once again, he was back at work within a few days and off to the bush to work with his beloved animals. He is busy developing and testing a harmless elephant repellent and when I spoke to him this morning, he told me that the wound has shrunk to the size of a one-pound coin (about the size of a quarter) and is healing nicely. I wish I could say the same for myself!

Obviously my knowledge about Anthrax needed upgrading! Every reference I had heard relating to it, focused on the use of Anthrax as a biological weapon. Boy, did I have a lot to learn! The CDC (Centre for Disease Control – USA) provided me with the most concise (and comforting) information. There are actually three types of Anthrax infection: cutaneous (skin), inhalation and gastrointestinal. All types are caused by the spore-forming bacterium Bacillus anthracis that occurs usually in lower vertebrates such as cattle, goats, sheep, camels, antelopes, etc. It can occur in humans when they are exposed to infected animals, tissue from infected animals or when the spores are used as a bio-terrorist weapon.

J had been infected with the cutaneous (most common) version, which accounts for about 95% of Anthrax infections. The bacterium enters the body through a cut or abrasion on the skin when handling infected animals or their by-products such as hair or hides. This forms an itchy, raised bump resembling an insect bite that in a couple of days forms a painless ulcer with a characteristic black necrotic (dying) area in the centre. Lymph glands in the vicinity of the ulcer may swell. Deaths are rare with the correct treatment; about 20% of untreated cases result in fatalities unlike the gastrointestinal type (25% -60% fatalities for both treated and untreated) and the Inhalation type, which is almost always fatal.

When they next meet, father and son will have plenty to share comparing notes. We never thought that J would be facing some of these small dangers quite so soon; M thinks it’s horribly unfair that ailments he had spread over some twenty-five years, J has faced in a matter of months. He’s always considered nature to be more fair to its protectors. We’re just hoping and praying that J has had his share for a while!

My concerns for my son originally were based on the political and social problems faced by almost all Zimbabweans. Fortunately, there have been cures for what he has encountered. Zimbabwe no longer has the infrastructure or the capital to combat or control the spread of these types of diseases. It's a great pity Africa hasn’t yet come up with a cure for the dictators who still plague it.

Zimbabwe…What About Zimbabwe? Part I

2007-04-15T00:23:00.000+02:00

There’s been quite a lot of reporting on the International News lately about Zimbabwe. Well I can tell you a thing or two happening in ‘Zim’ and I’m not even mentioning politics! M and I have our own ‘up–to–date’ story running from Africa with breaking news, telephone interviews and nail biting, edge of seat reality!

As some of you may already know, our two eldest sons are still living in Africa. One is in Johannesburg, South Africa and the other son, J, lives on a farm just outside of Harare where he works for a game capturing company, treating animals (giraffe, buffalo, wildebeest, rhino, sable, roan, impala, elephant, bush buck etc, etc) for ailments and parasites or moving them to other camps and reserves. J has a friend, also from Harare, who is doing veterinary work in Tanzania and goes to visit when he has some time off. A few weeks ago (end of January) I got a phonecall and it went something like this…

“Hi Mom, howzit?”
“Hi J, what’s happening? How are you?”
“Hey, I’m OK. How you guy’s doin’?” (Sounds far away and ‘a bit out of it’)
“We’re fine, just busy. How are you and where are you?”
“I’m in Tanzania.”
“So, you got through the border OK?” (Sometimes crossing the border is tricky with greasing of palms occurring frequently)
“Yeah, yeah…”
“So what’s up, you don’t sound so good?” (Notice how my normally excellent English starts to deteriorate?)
“Well, I’ve got Malaria…” (Small voice, trailing off)
“What kind of Malaria?” (Trying to keep panic down)
“Cerebral Malaria…but Mom, I’m OK…really”

I’m speechless…while brain processes information…picture 6’ 8”, 100kg son lying pale and drawn, gaunt frame covered by sheet in ‘Albert Schweitzer’ type, palm-walled clinic somewhere in ‘darkest’ Africa, while battling the deadliest malaria known to man! (Had I realised how close this vision was to the truth, I might have panicked). The symptoms had started on the 36-hour bus ride from Zimbabwe to Tanzania and by the time J arrived at his destination, he felt like he was dying. The only place he could go to was a missionary couple, friends of a friend, who took him in, put him to bed and nursed him until the crisis was past. It was nothing short of a miracle that this missionary was a pharmacist who had weathered several bouts of Malaria himself. He and his wife knew just what to do, helping J, giving him the medicine he needed, liquids, food and a place to sleep and rest until he could travel. This gut-wrenching call occurred three days after the initial diagnosis and he spent another two days of utter misery until the crisis was completely over.
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A side note here about missionaries: Since Africa was explored and the pioneering giants first went to heal and spread Christianity, there have been missionaries in Africa. As well as preaching and establishing churches, they (such as the above mentioned Dr Albert Schweitzer) work tirelessly in all sorts of capacities, teaching, healing, running food distribution centres and implementing skills programs. I have often come across blogs started by yet another young family, (newly arrived in some remote part of Africa), to keep friends, family and fellow church members posted with their news and progress. Even if their doctrine or politics may differ from many, the work being done is vital and this is one mother who has sent up a silent thank you for these often, unsung heroes.

By the middle of February, J was well enough to attend a course on game darting, along with an international group of vets and rangers. After the week long course was over, he was back at work in remote areas, where even mobile phone signals don’t reach. We would hear from him when he touched base in Harare between jobs but he seemed to be fully recovered from his bout with the world’s deadliest killer.

Join me for Zimbabwe…What About Zimbabwe? Part II next!