Tuesday, 28 April '09: Country churches

You will find a church standing, solid and staid, in the middle of every dorp (village) in South Africa's platteland (countryside). Here are some of the country churches I encountered on the drive through the Eastern Free State last week. Built in 1894, the Dutch Reformed Church in Fouriesburg, Free State, was built of the tawny local sandstone hewn from the surrounding hills.

In the church hall of the Dutch Reformed Church in Rosendal, we met a congregant busy with carpentry. He told us that the once large congregation now numbers eighty regular worshippers. But they are a close knit fellowship and the hall is used for cosy potluck meals on special festivals, such as Pentecost. We took the opportunity to slip in to admire the austere interior, dominated by the elevated pulpit, the pipe organ, the single ornamentation: a banner, God is liefde, (God is Love) and the communion table.

The little Anglican church tucked away in a sandy side street of Fouriesburg was locked. Its size reflects the demographics of the area where English-speakers have historically been a minority. The notice outside announced twice-monthly services.

Wynford Holiday Farm, our vacation destination, has its own simple thatched A-frame chapel, recently built, overlooking the road from Fouriesburg to the Lesotho border. Services are held weekly for the Farm's guests.

A favourite venue for weddings the bridal couple can gaze on the distant mountains while making their vows.

On Sunday we listened to George, Wynford's owner, preach a down-to-earth sermon; hymns were sung to the guitar of Linda, his wife. The simplicity of the service fitted the majestic natural surroundings.

I have linked this little holiday snippet part to That's My World. Do take a visit!

Friday, 6 March '09: Giraffe news

Raph of Giraffe world, quite recently awarded me the Premio Dardos Award. I have failed to post it as yet - watch that sidebar! In return for this honour, I doing a little post on that most gracious, elegant and serene inhabitant of Africa - the giraffe. Happily I can report that giraffes are doing well here in South Africa where conserved populations are thriving - in the Kruger National Park, the largest national park in South Africa - and on private ranches and game reserves. Last May I even posted my own snap of two giraffes grazing on a golf course in Bloemfontein.



Some giraffical facts: The giraffe is, of course, the tallest animal in the world and it needs a complex blood circulatory system, not fully understood by zoologists, to transmit a blood supply up that incredibly long neck. Long lashed and long tongued, giraffes feed on the leaves of trees not accessible to other herbivores. Giraffes can reach a speed of 55 km but an occupational hazard is broken limbs caused by slipping on wet surfaces. Careful, Raph, in all that snow! Those necks are useful in mating conflicts too. Males use their long powerful necks to strike an opponent's body and males wrestle by twining their necks around each other. The loser is pushed off balance but fights rarely lead to more than that. Otherwise these beautiful animals tranquilly mind their own business and go about life in the African bush with a peaceful air.


An interesting anecdote I read when preparing this blog was about a game ranger in the Kruger National Park who recently observed a female giraffe with a noticeably deformed jaw wandering in a foursome. She was healthy and full grown. In spite of her obvious defect her long tongue functioned well as did her sharp incisors which stripped the leaves and pods from stems.

So who is for a trip to the Kruger National Park to see giraffes and the Big Five: lion, cheetah, rhino, bufffalo and hippo? You can stay with me at Thatchwick en route - and that's a promise!

Tuesday, 20 January '09: My World - Brenthurst Garden, Johannesburg

Brenthurst Gardens in Parkhurst, Johannesburg is a relatively undiscovered gem. The 48 acre eco-friendly gardens are over a century old and have been owned by the illustrious Oppenheimer family since the turn of the century. Harry Oppenheimer, mining magnate, philanthropist and great son of South Africa, and his wife, Bridget redesigned the magnificent estate in the late 1950's. Today the gardens are the responsiblity of Strilli Oppenheimer, wife of Nicky Oppenheimer, who lives in Little Brenthurst pictured above. I first visited the gardens in November last year and was moved by the tranquillity and beauty of a planting which borders one of the busiest stretches of urban highway in the whole of South Africa!


As our little group proceeded along the majestic avenue, we were met by the tall imposing Strilli elegantly striding along in her gardening togs accompanied by her two dogs. She paused to explain to us her vision of the garden: "Totally free of insecticides, pesticides and manmade fertilizers, I and my head gardener, Dawid Klopper, believe in working with nature rather than fighting it or imposing our 'perfect' picture on it."


I returned home inspired to add more and more indigeneous plants to my own garden at Thatchwick Cottage. To encourage butterflies, insects, frogs and indigeneous birds. To use only natural recipes for controlling plant diseases and pests.

This fantastic garden takes about three hours to explore with a very friendly guide. I returned in mid-December with a posse of friends who were awed and struck with a new gardening vision. There is an admittance fee which all goes to the Little Eden Society for the care of persons with mental handicaps. Tea is served and there are books and indigeneous plants to buy at very low prices. The garden at Brenthurst is also a Quiet Garden, a project sponsored by the Anglican church as a garden open to visitors for meditation and prayer.

If you are visiting Jo'burg, South Africa, why not Brenthurst? This is a lovely part of my dear world! And my debut into Show your world Tuesday. Visit the Show your world page and explore the globe.

Friday, 26 September: Skywatch Friday & miscellaneous

Skywatch Friday: The midsummer sun sets over the African bushveld at about 19h30. This photo from my album was taken a number of years ago at Dikhololo (a small antelope) Resort just outside Brits in the North West Province, South Africa, about an hour's drive from Pretoria. My family owned a time-share week at the resort and it was a favourite getaway for long walks past grazing giraffe and antelope, bird spotting and close family fun. When our girls left home, I found it hard to stopover; after Richard passed away, I sold it. Some places you just can't visit again!

Today I popped into the office and sought solace concerning a Frustrating Form that I must complete for work purposes. A dear colleague, Cheryl, encouraged me with kind words about my blog which she had visited for the first time this week. She pointed out that, as a keen garden birder, I must surely have omitted two colourful, indigeneous visitors to my garden in the list in my sidebar. To make appropriate amends, I post a pic of the black-collared barbet (Afrikaans: rooikophoutkapper), who is a common caller at the morning fruit table. Not as bold as the crested barbet, its shrill ringing cry is unmistakeable.

The other omission was the olive thrush. This photo (off the Net) belies this little fellow's bossy, inquisitive character as he struts about the damp grass looking for insects or checks out the area around the dogs' feeding bowls for leftover pellets right under their noses.

Galahad wants the last word on the olive thrush:

"These silly birds nest among the twigs on the ground under the jakaranda. So what is a fellow to do now and again? A guy can't help being taken over by primeval urges - the good old hunting instinct and so on! Mom screams frantically and has managed a couple of rescue attempts. But I must confess to all avid birdwatchers, I have to plead guilty to olive thrush homicide on a couple of regrettable occasions. "

Friday, 19 September: Skywatch Friday

The Telkom tower on Muckleneuck Hill, Pretoria at midday is my contribution to this week's Skywatch Friday. In the foreground the Monkey Thorn (Afrikaans: apiesdoring) is in its own bushveld spring dress - russet leaves and blossoms which resemble furry caterpillars.

Now this has been quite a week, hasn't it? Banks in trouble and stock markets falling. I suggest that if you are feeling a little low, shattered or shaken, go outside, lift your eyes and gaze at the sky.

Saturday, 30 August: Spring today, summer tomorrow

Suddenly bougainvillas blaze red, purple, brick, white.

Coral trees (Erythina caffra) burst into red flame. Clivias delight but only for a few short weeks.

My oak is too impatient for the last withered leaf to fall. The tender green leaves unfurl overnight, pushing the dry foilage off the branches, littering the courtyard.

Petunia trees line streets in more delicate pink and white. By mid morning the blue sky is hazy with fine dust swirled around by late August winds.

Last weekend I was in winter woolies; this Saturday I am in sandals, camisoles and cotton skirts. Pass the suncream, darl!

Soon it will be the jakarandas and the breathless wait for the early rains.

Nothing in South Africa comes in half measures - the bad and the good; the ugly and the glorious; the hope and the sometimes despair. That is why those of us who have chosen the beloved country as our forever home love it so much with old-fashioned passion, commitment and faith.

God bless South Africa and grant her and her people peace!
N'kosi sikelele, Africa!

Written in exile from South Africa

Hibiscus was red

(It grew by my window)

And salvia,

Pointsettias

The spikes of aloes,

And the coral tree

In flaring splendour.

Here there are flowers,

Frail lives of loveliest name,

Daffodils, primroses, daisies,

Fritillaries, buttercups.

But nowhere in England,

That pagan colour,

Nowhere that red

That flamed by my window.

by Charles Ould.

Thursday, 19 June: Snapshots from Bloemfontein

My long weekend in Bloemfontein(Afrikaans/Dutch: fountain of flowers) was far too short! This is my daughter's home, a striking house built in typical Cape Dutch style, which is unusual architecture for this part of the country. Perhaps the original owners were hankering for the lush Cape scenery in this arid part of the country, halfway on the national highway between Cape Town and Johannesburg. Bloem, as the city is affectionately known, has a modest population of about 370 000. Its Sotho name is Mangaung: place of the cheetahs.

Bloem is also known as the city of the roses due to the abundance of roses grown in the city and the annual rose festival held here. So what better way to spend Saturday morning, but at the well-known rose farm: Roses for you, attending a workshop on rose pruning and enjoying cream scones and tea.

The rose farm, set amidst a dry, frost-bleached countryside, is watered by the spruit (Afrikaans: creek).

One of the formal rose gardens just gives a hint of the splendour which will follow in October. Our roses will only be pruned in late July.

A gazebo shelters under bare trees. Bloem has a harsh winter and the leaves fall leaving the skeletons of the trees.

The weekend was also a culinary feast. Daughter, Ruth, cooks up a storm on Saturday evening...

while my two granddaughters, Joelle and Jaelene, snuggle up in the doggie bed with a very plump Schnaps, their little Staffordshire terrier.

Sunday saw us at a glorious church service at the family's church. The joyous, exuberant congregation is a true reflection of the 'rainbow nation', our multicultural society.

Then we took a stroll on the University of the Free State's campus. Here my husband did his first degree in Greek and Hebrew and Ruth qualified as a medical doctor. So it may be a small university but it has high acacemic standards and an impressive curriculum!

We shared the campus only with the pigeons - it was a long weekend.


Sisters and friends forever!

Bottoms up!

Monday morning we drove about six kilometers to the fringes of the town to visit a most unusual golf course. Unfortunately as it was a public holiday, the tea room was closed. But this will give you some idea of the dry winter grasslands and that big turqoise sky.

This is a pic of the driving range and in the far left (unfortunately my camera does not do a good long shot) are two unconcerned giraffes, munching leaves. If you click on the photo, it enlarges and you will see the giraffes.(Thank you, Dee Dee, for this tip.) Meerkatte (mongeese) scampered across the deserted driving range while buck grazed on its edges.

The Art Museum is a favourite spot during a Bloem visit, but it was also closed. So I had to take a long shot from the gates.

Monday lunchtime, it was off to the airport and goodbyes. And here is a waterbok (water buck) mounted on the wall at the golf course to bid youfarewell!


This extract describes the winter Free State landscape so aptly I had to share it with you, my friends in foreign lands.

Vroegherfs by NP van Wyk Louw

...die eerste blare val
so stilweg in die rook-vaal bos en laan,
dat die takke van die lang populiere al
teen elke ligte more witter staan.

Translation from Afrikaans -my own.

...the first leaves fall
so silently in the smoke-grey bush and track
that the branches of the tall populars already
appear whiter each morn...

Thursday, 9 May: Tribute to my grandmother

New blogging friend at Take A Sentimental Journey kindly posted a vintage photo of my mom on her Mother's Day Hall of Fame. So I have decided to pay tribute to my maternal grandmother on my blog in honour of Mother's Day. Here is Maude Helen Woods nee Wolverton. Unfortunately I did not know her personally as she passed away when I was only three years old. But several of her possessions were passed down to me and a few stories. Again, not nearly enough. So those of you with living grandparents, make sure they share their stories with you before they are lost forever.

But I do know this. Maude Helen was born on 1 January 1877 in Great Yarmouth, Norfolk, England.She had some training as a nurse or nurse aid and only married my grandfather, Henry Freeman Woods, at the very ripe age of thirty. As a local lad from a nearby town, my grandfather must have been something of an adventurer. He had already done a stint in Argentina, a very exotic location for an Englishman. When Maude and Steward married in 1909, he was on his way to South Africa or rather the Orange Free State as this was before South Africa had become a country (Union was in 1910). They must have travelled on a cargo ship to Africa, a far off and fearsome continent, when you were used to the gentility of middle-class English small town life. My gran brought with her an entire set of silver cutlery, silver hairbrushes and ornaments. I have bits and pieces of the collection in my house, all engraved with her initials, MW. They made their way from the coast by ox wagon to the dusty, dry, hot Free State to settle in Thaba Nchu, a dorpie or hamlet, some 80 kilometers from Bloemfontein. Life must have been very harsh in those days. The country had just suffered two wars between the British Empire and the free Dutch burghers and tension, even hatred, was still running high after the suffering incurred by both sides. Dutch women and children had died in their hundreds in the first-ever concentration camps run by the British, many situated in the Free State. But it appears that the English settlers in Thaba Nchu lived calmly side by side Dutch neighbours. The little English community was very much a replica in the wild of the best of English life. My mom told tales of picnics in the bush, jolly outings to climb the nearby kopje (hill),regular attendance at the Church of England church (Episcopalian), swimming in the mud dam and plenty of pranks. My grandmother never, ever saw the fishing boats of Great Yarmouth or her parents again, although some relatives did brave the trip to South Africa. My grandfather almost lost his trading store where he sold farming implements during the Depression and my mother remembers the family furniture being carted away for sale to pay the debts.

I have inherited the gold chain that Maude is wearing in the photo and her name as my second name. And what else, I wonder? What other of her characteristics are firmly embedded in my DNA or have been passed down to me by tradition: grandmother to mother to daughter?

Have a blessed Mother's Day! My girls will not be with me on Sunday but I know we love and appreciate each other as I know your children do you!