The casual affection of a grandchild
The crooning of our puppy
Picking fruit from my fruit trees
My wife’s smile
The chatter of family at a braaivleis
Songs that snare memories
The colours of new leaves … old leaves … most leaves
Condensation on a glass of cold beer
The call of the Piet-my-vrou
What am I grateful for today?
The just enough breeze
The blossom bending under a bee’s knees
Our solitary pineapple
The yellow green of leaves on the unidentified trees against the ever so slightly faded blue sky
The droop of the fuchsia
That I am far away enough not to smell the rotting fruit of the cherry guava tree.
The relative silence of obscure suburbia.
The pelargonium red that almost pierces my eye
The fat smile of the Buddha my son gave me
There are more – these are some I perceive from where I sit on my verandah at home.