Category: home in the redlands

Winter fruit

The late summer stonefruit are now declining in quality and increasing in price. There have been no mangoes for a long time..

I bought some naartjies and oranges today – they are likely to be my fruit staples for some months. I think farmers are going to battle with diminished and expensive fuel…

Damn! I didn’t want to go along that ugly road!

From 6 a.m. until 5 p.m. there is a shrieking hullabaloo of rainbow lorikeets in the big Golden Penda tree next door. They get drunk on the nectar from the bright yellow flowers then spend the day shrieking at each about how good life is!

5 p.m. must be Nature’s closing time as the noise ceases like it has been switched off! Until then it is a rowdy, unrestrained party. You may be unlucky enought to be pee’d upon as they fly shreiking from tree to tree.

They fly straight at you and only veer away at the last moment!

I love them! So quintessentialy Australian.

They are not alone: they have a midday siesta and that is the time that the noisy friar demonstrates his unusual squawking, creaking call which is so unmusical it makes one grin! Every now and then the resident noisy miner flock think they see a snake and they set up an enormous racket!

In early mornings there is also the maniacal cackle of the kookaburras and the crow choir practice, conducted succesively in all four corners of their patch.

When herself worked night shift she used to rush out and clash cymbals at the crows, who still generally avoid Bahr Palace.

Do other countries have birds that are actually called ‘noisy’? I know there are howler monkeys elsewhere…

Life goes on … just ignore the news and keep your head down and all the stuff over there will disappear….

A museum piece

Idly looking on Google maps at my Granny’s old house in Lee on the Solent in Hampshire, I saw there was a hovercraft museum in the village.

In 1962, I saw the Duke of Edinburgh piloting a hovercraft down the slipway onto the sea at Lee. Now he’s dead and the craft has a museum.

Later, Oupa Nu and Granny took 2 granddaughters to the local Redlands Museum. Essentially a time display of how life was lived from the days of early colonist settlement in the early 19th Century.

There were a few Aboriginal artefacts but that was not the focus of the museum.

Life must have been very hard for early settlers. The land need to be cleared, mostly by hand, with oxen doing the heavy hauling for loggers.

There were a number of exhibits from the second half of the last century. Many were achingly familiar and evoked nostalgia for a gentler, easier time in a different place.

“We had those” and ‘ we had desks like that and inkwells for dipping our pens….” Not much interest from the youngsters who were searching for hidden Easter chicks.

It was a strange feeling – I felt almost like I could be an exhibit !

Now I have a telephone, diary, dictionary, encyclopedia, film theatre, camera, torch, juke box and bank card in one little machine in my pocket! (Just got to learn how to use all of the things…)

It’s a hard life!

Well …. it was at first...!

Now ….

I live in my own house in Australia. I have a wife, have enough to live on and save and no debts. My children and grandchildren all live in Australia, most within an hour’s drive.

We celebrate occasions and braai together frequently.

I am 73 years old and despite creaks and groans, not chronically ill.

In the past year I have consulted a doctor, cardiologist, and a nuclear radiologist. I have also seen a podiatrist, dentist, and a chiropractor. In addition, I have seen a phlebotomist and a physiotherapist. I visited some of these professionals more than once. All at no cost or subsidised fees.

My doctor at my last medical check-up said: If I had these results I would be dancing every day!

As a pensioner I receive subsidies for electricity and rates from the State. Any public transport costs 50 cents a trip.

In the event of an accident, I will be fetched by an ambulance and treated in hospital at no cost. Most operations and hospital visits are free for me.

If I need a carer in the future, the State will cover most of the costs. Alternatively, they will subsidise costs of a care home.

They may even send someone to mow the lawn.

You will note the absence of a mental health professional in the list. That is because I am wise and sane. I can remember nearly everything! But that service is subsidised too, if required!

For my friends and family in darkest Africa and darkening Europe, this may sound like a boast. Please forgive me if it sounds like that; it is not!

I am profoundly grateful for my good fortune. We are truly blessed!

I am haunted by my heritage, which remains an ache but know that we did the right thing.

But there are snakes, spiders and jellyfish and slimy politicians here …. I tell you: it’s a hard life!

Kindness

It needed a crash to shake me out of my lethargy.

Being inclined to indolence I have a routine, which I follow with minor deviations depending largely on weather and people. I am not a spontaneously social being so take the wider track to avoid chatters.

Today it was wet, as was yesterday and many days before. Walking Lulu, I took a loop to avoid a lady and her two sprightly Staffies.

As I got to the slippery downslope to the road, I saw a friendly feller from up the road …. and my right foot slipped, smooth and fast!

My left knee (with the 35year old carbon fibre ligament) bent under me and I crashed onto my left foot). Oomph and eina!

I am not as slim as I used to be, so I think the earth shuddered. I lay gasping like a stranded whale. Lulu was still attached but soon lost interest. The friendly feller hustled over and inquired. A muscular jogger stopped and enquired. They lifted me up (ooh! I feel a song coming on..). A man in a big RAM truck stopped and enquired.

I felt loved and soo grateful. Every person who saw me enquired and lifted my body and spirit. They ensured I was alright before they left.

It is so good to know spontaneous kindness and care beat in everyman’s chest. I am reassured about the goodness of man.

I was careless, I know the place is slippery and always take care, except when I don’t! Gratitude is a healing warmth.

I am a better man today than I was yesterday.

Hej!

As some of you may recall, I ride a bike in the early morning … sometimes I fall off, but not for a while, touch wood.

I make a point of smiling at and greeting everyone I pass by. Surprisingly quite a few are miserable buggers who just scowl. I also make a point of greeting their dogs, which usually makes them smile … the owners too.

Just to introduce some early morning variation, I greet them in different languages. That seems to work quite well – I mostly get a heads-up and smile these days.

So ….

Hola Konnichiwa

Jambo Hallo Ciao

Namaste

Bonjour Marhaba Dumela Shalom

Bula Sabaidee Ni-hao

Zdravo  Olá Sawubona

Salam Xin-chao Yassas Zdravstvuyte Moni Bok Ahoj Bula

Tere Aloha Sveiki Mhoro Kia-Ora Namaste Salut Talofa

Sawubona


Winter is gone

The path I walked this morning was strewn with small branches bearing sprays of gum flowers, strewn by honey drunk lorikeets. The flowers still had a rich honey scent.

The birds shriek even louder now and the crows chuckle and cawl, marking their territories. A noisy friar flew over with a twig in its beak for a nest in our jacaranda. I was swooped by a butcher bird in the usual place.

When I sit on the stoep in the morning, the shrill birds’ calls are almost annoying, but their joy overrides the irritation.

The wattle mimosa is almost over, now the bauhinias are flowering, to be followed by jacaranda and eventually flamboyant Poinciana.

On our walk I have seen two dead snakes, so they are on the prowl too.

Winter is gone.

This poem always reminds me of the circle of life, mostly grim but the idea of a crows’ nest embellished with ‘gowden’ hair is almost amusing. It is not by Robbie Burns; its origin is unknown.

Twa Corbies

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’other say,
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’

‘In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

‘His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s ta’en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een.
Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair,
We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a ane for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken whare he is gane:
O’er his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

I’m an old country boy

An old friend came to town from up North and said let’s catch up somewhere.

We decided on a 10 a.m. brunch in a cafe near the central station and his flat. I am somewhat of a hermit and get lost easily, so hate going into the city.

I have never worked or lived in a city except Salisbury in the 1970’s, which was really a large town with mild traffic in those days. Then 10 years ago in Australia, I commuted by train to an inner suburb from an outer suburb for 2 months – I still shudder…

Timetables were checked and the way to the cafe (just 7 minutes walk) and I had my phone… so girded my loins.

Only had to wait 12 minutes for the train (better early than never..). There was a seat near the door, pity about the school trip into the city. Young people can chatter!

Got to Central station without mishap. Found an exit, hobbled down stairs … left or right? Go right … oops! should be heading to Ann Street, which is the other way. More stairs… Just as well I had allowed an extra 10 minutes to find my way.

There are a lot of people in a city; why are they all on the same pavement as me?All looking purposeful and calm, politely sidestepping my hesitant shambling amble.

Ann Street, go right to Edward Street – easy peasy, only 100m to go, cross to the left, down the hill. Hmmm! better check my phone map. It says destination 9 minutes away – I’d thought it was 7 from the station..? Carry on and find a landmark to check if you are going the right way.

Can’t read street names on map; Yikes! it now says 11 minutes from destination!

So back up the hill I trudge, past Ann Street. Now 5 minutes late and at a wiggly crossroads where my phone map says cross left then right then do a wiggle and you are there. Confused I gaze about seeking clues…

Ting! A message no doubt asking where am I. My friend knows me well. It says: “Do u know where you going? There is no signage but in the snazzy building at the bottom of Jacob’s Ladder behind the revolving door!“

I look up and there across the road is a revolving door. I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland searching for the White Rabbit. I found him behind the revolving door.

We had a good old friend reunion, which was reasuring. I almost envied his cool equilibrium about visiting the city, but remembered he had worked in Durban City for many years.

Finding my way back was easy, I even found a shortcut by reading the signs. Waited only 7 minutes for a train and had remembered to go to the loo, so there was no stress.

I am so glad I am a country boy, so glad that I will not be around in 50 years when it will be like a city everywhere, unless you travel miles inland … for a while.

a butterfly muse

I sat on my stoep yesterday and was honoured with a fly by of a black butterfly with turquoise dots on its wing edges.

It flew around the kumquat tree, glanced at me, I hope, then went on in a whimsical, unhurried flight.

It was perfect, a flimsy beauty filling thirty seconds of my life, then gone forever.

Beauty, like time, does not stand still. A portrait of a beauty captures some essence but not all. A photograph though true, lacks life.

Beauty happens to you, it is a moment, like happiness, then will pass leaving a memory and a want for more.

Self indulgence

73 is a good number, but I am not there yet. Being but a step away is sufficient justification for self -indulgence.

Warmed by gentle signs of affection from the my nearest dearests and those afar, I feel free to indulge.

But, lest anyone think that I may neglect my responsibilities, I have done the washing up, emptied the bins, watered the flowers and inspected the lawn for dog poo (none); however, I did note it needs a cut – but not today!

To my delight I found a new scarlet amyryllis bloom, the second this season; a solitary deep red nasturtium smiled at me – I thought they were all done, and my birthday gardenia has spared me an extra bloom on the appropriate day.

On the kitchen bench are massed ingredients for the Christmas cakes baked by herself. Such a rich panoply: ginger, prunes, fig jam, candy peel, dates, apricots, currants, cherries, almonds to accompany the usual eggs, flour and milk, all stiffened with a cup or two of sherry and a dash of whisky to preserve it. Renowned as an invigorating health food the cake rarely makes the new year.

I had black berries and yogurt for breakfast and plan a mango soon. For lunch I will have a glass of wine (maybe two?) and some snorko’s (pork sausages, a little weakness of mine). Supper shall be feesh and cheeps at the Lighthouse.

Somewhere, there may be a nap …

That’s how I like it these days.

Yellow

Autumn is a yellow season.

The sketch is of sunflowers we picked from a farm field.

Who said farming can’t be appreciated by many? I don’t mean just the produce, but the intrinsic beauty of crops in the field.

An enterprising farmer recently opened the sunflower fields for the public to enjoy.

Thousands of people left their city homes and travelled over 100 kilometres to walk about the fields, smiling and posing and picking sunflowers while avoiding bees. The entry fee was not hefty.

Pop-up food and souvenir stalls abounded: I had a very fine, cheap hamburger and some unremarkable gin in grapefruit juice.

One could glamp in luxury tents, wander through a maze in the sunny fields, get married amongst sunflowers or take a helicopter flip to photograph the fields.

I half expected a March Hare and a Queen of Hearts to appear – it was a sublimely pleasant experience!

On the same yellow road: Autumn is the month for the flowering of Golden Penda trees which almost outnumber flamboyant trees in our part of the world.

After good rains (which we have had) the trees burst out in yellow sprays of flowers, which have copious nectar. This attracts the honeyeaters which include the rainbow lorikeets, who become besotted and wild, seeking out more and more.

I have written before about the cacophony of Austraian bird calls. In this season, the noise starts before dawn and continues into the heat of the day. Gangs of the electric green, purple headed birds speed from tree to tree, shrieking their critique of the nectar quality for all to hear. It is almost oppressive.

Aren’t we lucky?