Tag Archives: farm

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Buzzing Into the Newer New Normal

“The summer is almost over and all these creatures will be gone for another season.”

Picture from PexelsMarch 11, 2023

It’s March again. And the ants, hornets, and wasps are in a tizz. I think if I sat in my favourite porch chair long enough, these army ants would probably carry me off into their city beneath the steps.

I’m not sure about how much research has gone into an ant’s sense of smell, but it must be incredible. One dropped piece of litchi skin under the kids table is enough to alert the whole lot of them to the feast. They march across the porch, hundreds of big black ants with reddish heads. They nip, too.

Maybe that’s why the geckos don’t pay any attention to them as they search every inch of the concrete. Or, maybe the geckos are too busy keeping out of the way of the huge female Western Natal green snake that comes to my front door on most hot afternoons. They love eating skinks, but thankfully, they’re not interested in toes.

It’s a Dog-Eat-Dog Sort of World But Snakes Don’t Eat Hornets

I do wish the snakes would eat the hornets, though. Those little brown ones with yellow stripes are so cheeky. Oribi Dad has had a couple of occasions where he’s been walking innocently past something and received several stings on the head for his troubles. And boy, does it burn.

The wasps are a little less of a problem, but they get right up in your face whenever they feel like it. You can be quietly typing away one minute and furiously swatting away at a buzzing enemy the next.

The high-pitched sound they make while they’re making their mud nests is the most annoying thing to hear. It signals that the housekeeper (me) is going to have to locate the sound, uncover the nest’s hiding place, and knock it down before it gets too big.

The black and yellow wasps love the curtain creases. The huge purple or black ones love the highest places on the lounge wall. And the mud doesn’t just fall off either. It needs scrubbing, scraping, and a lot of patience to erase all traces. If you let them get too far ahead, you also get the pleasure of knocking down a nest filled with poor paralyzed spiders – one in each compartment for a wasp baby to eat!

Well, it won’t be hot forever. The summer is almost over. All these creatures will be gone for another season. For us, the year is just getting going. There’s so much to look forward to now that the calendar is out of its COVID hibernation.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: How To Get Rid of an Uninvited Guest

“January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family.”

Life on the farm can be full of surprises. See that baby snake there?
February 6, 2023 

It’s still a mystery how these things happen, but life in Oribi Gorge is certainly keeping me on my toes. Last year would grind to a halt after almost a whole December of sick children and not much beach weather. But January was beckoning with new beginnings in so many areas.

Grade R. School runs. No plan to return maternity outfits. An action plan forming for feeding the bottomless pits who share my home. And I don’t mean the infuriating troop that strips my fruit trees and vines before we even get a taste.

The second week of school was going well. One of us even managed to make the parents’ meeting in the evening so that we could hear all the things we still had to organise for our eldest’s education. Big school is a lot of work for parents.

I’d left the stationery labelling to the very last minute with all the viral invaders vying for my children’s respiratory systems. I didn’t realise that sticking on over two hundred labels and covering books would be such a tedious exercise. Granted, I only had time to do it at around 9pm when I was already exhausted, but it took almost a week to finish. And that was without the plastic. (Did you know that self-sticking plastic covers are not very good at self-sticking?)

So, January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family. Other families seem to have grown too, including the Western Natal green snakes that live by the far porch. However, I didn’t expect to see one of their brood on my kitchen counter.

It was hiding behind the utensil bucket, right by the bread I was reaching for. At 20cm, swishing it quickly into a jug was enough for a very undramatic capture and release. The uninvited guest only needed a few prods but, like the crab, I have no idea how it even got up there. I guess one of this year’s tasks will be to investigate in case it isn’t such a harmless visitor next time.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Almost Enough To Get the Blood Boiling

“About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?”

Oribi Mom: Heather Lind

February 5, 2023

 

The heat draws out strange things, especially in the humans in my home. Everyone is a little grumpier, a little lazier, and with toddlers, far less covered in socially appropriate clothing.

As the jackal buzzards enjoy the thermals far above, we sit in any cool spot we can find and try to act normal. The garden doesn’t have much shade right now but my grandchildren should have a few big trees to sit under if I can help these saplings survive a few more Januaries.

Hot and Bothered Under the Collar

On one of these sweltering days, I was casually trying to dry four days’ worth of washing and get the housework under control. I heartily agreed to the husband’s request to take our three little farmboys to the pumphouse to put off the water.

Off they went for the 20 minute stroll, with the five-year-old refusing to don clothes and only wearing his costume bottoms. The two-year-old would not put on more than a nappy. And the baby would not wear a hat for more than twenty seconds.

Well, it might be worth 20 minutes of housework.

About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?

As I race in the direction of the gate, said middle child comes waltzing over the grass, completely naked, and not at all concerned about his mother’s worried face. Behind him is one of the farm workers who lives nearby, looking sweaty but definitely coming up to the house. What is going on?

Everybody Calm Down and Move the Wardrobe

It turns out that there was no big emergency. We needed help carrying a large piece of furniture into the house and our friendly neighbour had agreed to come in and help with the load on his way back from town. So, now we have a beautiful wardrobe in our room and I didn’t have to break any vertebrae or toes on the way. Isn’t life funny?

It’s still hot, but there’s a cool breeze blowing calm onto my porch in 2023. Maybe, it’s going to be a good year.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Making Mud Pies in the Rain

“I’m sure he’ll have plenty of stories to tell his grandchildren about the farmer’s wife who almost put him in a pie like Peter Rabbit’s dad.”

The non-crab pie.

November 18, 2022

I almost made a mud crab pie for supper this afternoon. It was one of those rare days that I actually had all the ingredients I wanted for a preplanned supper.

After copious cups of rooibos to get through the work day, it was time for some cooking and cleaning before the toddlers realised they were starving. This usually happens about an hour before the food is actually ready. Obviously.

Sometimes, Summer Scenes Are Really Beautiful in Oribi Gorge

A rat was scuttling around the compost heap outside. It was oblivious to the bird frenzy as new flying ants emerged for the fourth time this rainy week. There’s even a spider eating one outside the bathroom window.

The relentless Black Cuckoo hasn’t stopped calling in about three days, in the rain, and even in the dark. Mr Di-di-di Diedrick’s Cuckoo is also trying to get in his two cents as the mist rolls up our valley. Sometimes, you can’t even see the garden fence through the white blanket that covers our little farm.

I was finishing up a quick filling for some puff pastry. Ambitious for a weekday, I know. But why waste a day where the fridge is filled with fresh ingredients and there’s no loadshedding? With the rain falling on the tall-as-trees grass, it’s peaceful enough with two of three little people napping. The laundry isn’t drying but at least we have full rainwater tanks to drink for the summer.

Watch Out for Lost Crabs, Though

As I was wiping down the induction plate, my “stove”, I caught the tiniest movement out of the corner of my eye. My gaze focused, and about 10 centimetres from my hand was a crab. A big, black mud crab, waving his little eye stalks at me on top of the counter!

How on earth did he climb the cupboard? Where did he get in? Why is he so far from the stream? Does he like pie? So many questions.

Luckily, the pie was already in the oven. So, braai tongs, a short walk, and into the garden he went. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of stories to tell his grandchildren about the farmer’s wife who almost put him in a pie like Peter Rabbit’s dad.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Rainy Nights Where the Wild Things Are

“The owls were there before lockdown, and they are still eating insects on the lawn all these years later.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

 

November 15, 2022

It’s been a rough week. The boys aren’t sleeping through and the baby is up every two hours still. Loadshedding isn’t helping me find my groove, especially when the geyser switch keeps tripping. Rain is keeping us inside but helping our tiny macadamia trees grow.

Last night, I went to bed at 6pm with the children and fell fast asleep. At 7pm, the lights came back on and two spotted eagle owls started making a racket on the lawn. They make a sort of screeching growling sound right outside my window. Why? They’re chasing crickets!

One sits on the top of the garage playing lookout and the other one screeches and screeches while hopping awkwardly on the grass. They are hilarious to watch, running as though they had brand new shoes that were too big to go fast and waddling like they have a full nappy. They hop and bow and watch me watching them through the window. It’s too dark to video but the spotlight lets us see them in full view.

These huge birds are very impressive. And, them waking me up was a grand piece of luck. I forgot it was Wednesday and almost didn’t send in our grocery order for the weekly Thursday delivery. It’s a remnant of COVID lockdown that’s still going, and it is a lifeline to us fresh milk and bread lovers.

The owls were there before lockdown, and they are still eating insects on the lawn all these years later. I hope some things don’t change too quickly. Our little one is almost four months old already and changes every day. He’s started to giggle, and his two-year-old brother has started playschool.

Time is marching on. But hopefully the owls and all the other beautiful creatures at the farm will be unchanged when we look back on our lives here one day. They make me smile on the bad days. The farmhouse wouldn’t be the same without their summer shenanigans. And, at least they’re controlling the thriving cricket population making holes all over our lawn.

Published here.

Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Running Into Summer on the South Coast

“Summer is coming and it feels greener since the pandemic started making its exit.”

Jogging on beaches in Indonesia was often beautiful but home has less plastic rubbish. PHOTO HEATHER LIND

November 5, 2022 

I’ve started running again. Okay, let’s call it what it is: a slow jog. A very slow one after three babies and a long year.

The last time I started jogging was after Baby Number Two. I was bitten by a night adder about a month into my routine and it didn’t go so well after that. But, I’m back again, kicking up dust and looking for bird distractions up the crazy hills.

I’ve tried to catch up to the giant water mongoose that lives by the stream, but it’s too quick. I’ve snuck up to the African Pygmy Kingfisher that lives in the bank, but my cellphone camera is woefully inadequate to get a clear picture. I usually see a bright blur darting out in front of me and know I’ve missed it.

Panting Up the Hills Is Part of Running Again

It’s also a little embarrassing coming into view of one of the occasional workers in the macs. It’s about that moment you realise that you’ve been panting aloud like some old dog all the way up the hill. Did the person just on the side of the ridge wonder why an old gogo was coming up the road in the middle of nowhere?

The crowned hornbills sometimes sit at the tops of the trees and laugh at me while I pant up the steep bits. With an elevation gain of about 150 metres during the jog, the steep bits include the first 2.5km or so. If I can make it past that, I can ease up the heart rate and cruise downhill for most of the way home.

There’s one part of my regular route I’ve named Death Hill. That’s probably slightly dramatic, but it certainly makes you feel like death warmed up when you’re at the bottom of it and want to get to the highest point on the farm. If you can push through, you can turn around and have a full view of the sea in the distance, Gamalakhe next to that, and Oribi Gorge and Paddock the other way.

You can also see some of the Southern Drakensberg on clear days. The view alone is worth a little bit of sweat and embarrassing panting most days.

Jog or Run or Walk, But Get Out and See the World

I’ve jogged many places in the world, including around a tiny Indonesian island where we snorkelled with turtles every day. I’ve jogged in the Mara Triangle in Kenya and wondered about lions hidden in the grass. Now, I’m running on my farm on the South Coast and it’s just as beautiful.

Summer is coming and it feels greener since the pandemic started making its exit. Who knows, maybe we won’t even have to cancel the holidays this year.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Hello Darkness My Old … Eish!

“Do you think loadshedding will be a thing when our children’s children are listening to that same nightjar calling, ‘Dear Lord, deliver us’ in the dark?”

Photo for illustration purposes. WIKIPEDIA

October 4, 2022

Did you know that fiery-necked nightjars still call when it’s raining? I hear them as I venture out into the still dark rainy dawn to put on a load of washing. Why am I doing this again? Oh, yes. Loadshedding.

School sandwiches, cups of tea, baby reflux medication and sterile syringes, showers and baths, vacuuming, getting things out of freezers and fridges, cooking, charging things…all confined to random slots in a 24-hour period.

Only, life does not fit so neatly into those times when you have three children and work online from home. It doesn’t fit neatly even if you don’t have children or work from home.

Eishkom Dictates My Life in These Loadshedding Slots

You need electricity to have an internet connection. On the farm, you also need electricity to pump borehole water for household and farm use. Rain tanks help, but not for long. They don’t work either if they rely on a little electric pump for pressure.

It’s okay. We are used to it now, right? We are even grateful that enterprising apps tell us when it is going off and for how long.

But, any length of power outage is still inconvenient. Changing a baby’s nappy at 3am by the light of a cell phone is challenging, to say the least, especially when you’re trying to locate random spots of butternut-colored mess while holding tiny feet out of the way. When you only manage to get one eye open and half a brain awake, the task is almost impossible.

Other Things Manage Just Fine in the Dark, Including…Eish!

The eagle owls manage to come and hunt crickets on our lawn easily enough at that time. The rats run through the roof sounding like a soccer team at certain times of the year. They don’t need light to smell their way through life and find an easy meal of discarded toddler snack items. Thankfully, they didn’t find the half-eaten biltong in the couch I happened upon the other day.

Some time ago I also had a reminder why lighter coloured tiles were, in fact, a good idea. I question this choice occasionally.

I was walking to the kitchen for a baby bottle or something at 1am and stepped over something dark, thanks to my peripheral vision. I thought it was a sock or a broken toy, both common items waiting to pierce tender soles.

Instead, shining my cellphone torch on it revealed a giant black scorpion casually crawling near my bare foot. Close one (and nothing a toddler-sized cup with a lid can’t handle for chucking outside).

Like our schedules, our eyes can adjust to the dark somewhat. But I’m still hoping and praying that we don’t have to make it a permanent arrangement in this country.

Do you think loadshedding will be a thing when our children’s children are listening to that same nightjar calling, ‘Dear Lord, deliver us’ in the dark?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: No Wedding Video To Show Our Sons

“If we had invested in a professional videographer that day, we could have shown our sons what their parents, aunties, uncles and other friends looked like.”

The reward of reaching 15 years with three kids and a full memory bank has been worth it so far.

October 1, 2022

Many of you may already know that it sometimes pays to go through your cupboards and boxes. All three boys are transitioning into the next clothing size and I was taking a hands-free 20 minutes to fold laundry and sort things out.

When the piles of clothing were finally back into the right spaces, my eyes fell on a shoebox right at the back of the shelf. Oh yes, Mom brought that over a few months ago and I haven’t had a chance to look in it yet.

As I opened it up, I realised it was a few things from my childhood room; some wedding invitations, a photograph or two; printer’s tray items. How sweet to remember the little ornaments I spent so much time looking at and playing with as a girl. Too delicate to pass on to rough and tumble toddler boys just yet, though.

Look Closer at the Memories for Treasures

As I scanned the items, I saw an envelope with a single name on it in my handwriting. Who is that? Let’s call him Ben.

I only remembered one person by that name – a boy in my primary school. I didn’t remember ever writing him a letter, so I opened it. Three R100 notes fell on the floor! And as I read the note, it became clear.

“Here’s something to say thank you for taking our wedding video. Hope 2008 is a wonderful year for you!”

Oh, that Ben.

The one who offered to film our wedding almost 15 years ago. The friend who never arrived.

Still Frames in the Mind Are Treasured, Too

That’s right, we don’t have a wedding video to remember our very special union at 21 and 23. Those fresh-faced young people in the photographs are captured in still frames only. Their sincere voices and excited celebrations are a distant memory now.

Wedding guests didn’t have smartphones to capture clips of the day. There wasn’t even WhatsApp.

“Car trouble, sorry,” the message said as we were dressing for our long-awaited big day.

We’d dated for six years and were finally old enough to tie the knot. As we stood overlooking the ocean and said our vows, only the guests and gulls bore witness. We signed papers and we beamed at the prospect of what the future might hold for us.

Guests swam between the ceremony and the reception to stave off the oppressive January heat. Speeches and friends’ songs made everybody cry and laugh. And then, we moved on with our lives.

Maybe We’d Do It Differently But Time Doesn’t Rewind – Enjoy the Moments!

Maybe if we had invested in a professional videographer that day, we could have shown our sons what their parents, aunties, uncles and other friends looked like and how they sounded at the start of something beautiful.

Thankfully, we’ve invested more wisely into marriage. Love takes work, but the reward of reaching 15 years with three kids and a full memory bank has been worth it so far.

And, now we have some cash to go on a well-deserved date night one of these days to celebrate. Happy early anniversary to us.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Do What Makes You You

“Parenting three under five is probably not the time of life to be writing books for fun but the opportunities will come if I let them.”

Do all boys love TLBs and other giant machines? PHOTO HEATHER LIND

September 5, 2022

Have you ever heard and then seen a huge swarm of bees approaching as your newborn sleeps on your lap? It’s quite terrifying at first. You wonder whether they are going to come straight at you on the porch or pass by. The sound is incredible, a crescendo out of nowhere … before disappearing as the bees speed off to wherever they are going.

How can you describe that feeling of uncertainty when a thousand stings approaches and you don’t know the outcome? I think it is called exhilaration. Not knowing whether the next moment will be a good one is a physical experience as well as a mental one. It heightens the senses, pumps the adrenaline and gets the muscles ready to do their thing.

Your Body Suddenly Says, “Pay Attention”

It is the same kind of feeling that my almost five year-old gets when he sees a yellow or orange crane arm extended into the skyline. A digger! Will it be huge? Will it have a hook? Will it be operating as we drive past? The excitement is palpable as we drive via the N3 to Pietermaritzburg with all the roadworks in play. Every ten seconds a new shout of ‘excavator’ trumpets from the backseat all the way into town.

I recently had a fresh injection of exhilaration seeing my very first full length book in print. It didn’t matter that it was a ghostwriting project that my name will never be on – those are my words right there in black and white forever. What a feeling!

Why would I write a book for someone else? Perhaps a better question is why would someone hire me to write a book for them when they could do it themselves. The short answer is that some people have ideas they don’t know how to express in the way that does them justice. Writers can do it and do it well for the most part.

Your Mind Says, “Stay Calm and Breathe”

For me it is a job that I can do at home with my three boys in tow. Finding a client who wants to pay me to do what I love for six months to a year is well, worth any sacrifice of fame or prestige. One day when I have the time to churn out all the books that have embedded themselves into my imagination I won’t need a professional ghostwriter. It is still a dream to write my own books for now, though seeing this first one done and dusted makes it feel a lot more achievable. I know it can be done even as I feed my third baby and watch my toddlers wrestle on the grass.

Parenting three under five is probably not the time of life to be writing books for fun but the opportunities will come if I let them. Eyes open for those exhilarating moments of bees, books, and being me.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Spring Has Arrived in Oribi Gorge

“As the spring approaches, I hope you have good changes coming your way too.”

Night sky petunias on the porch. PHOTO: HEATHER LIND

 

August 25, 2022The weather has been glorious lately. Cool enough to garden a bit after months of a pregnant belly. Warm enough to go on late afternoon strolls with a baby and two boys on bikes kicking up dust. This spring we will finally have a hectare or two of macadamia saplings in the ground to compete with our growing brood. It is an exciting time interspersed with all the adult responsibilities. It’s also different to how things have looked up until now.

The third week in August was like a switch on the farm. The swallows and yellow-billed kites arrived within a day of each other. The wise are not so quick to declare spring in these parts though. The cold sneaks in every September with wind and rain that’s colder than anything we experience through ‘winter’ on the coastal inland farms.

My garden also gets confused. There are already arums, peaches forming, snake lilies pushing up, and flowers on the coffee tree. There are also captivating paint brush-like flowers and showy blooms starting to pop up everywhere. But my trusty beanie is going to stay ready for the next few weeks. I haven’t swapped out cosy slippers for slops yet. Isn’t it strange that we are so hesitant to change over when the signs are obvious? That’s human nature. We resist the unknown even if positive things may await.

At home now things have changed despite us wanting to hold on to the familiar. Every one of our garden pets has become a meal for a caracal, mongoose, or bird of prey in the last few months. Our lovely bunnies and chickens are all gone but we now have a beautiful new son. Our small farm no longer has the ancient flat crown choked by lantana but we have macadamia trees. We are winning the battle against invasive weeds in those spaces.

Things change like the weather and it seems that waiting out the storms is often worth the sunshine. As the spring approaches, I hope you have good changes coming your way too. We just have to roll with it and wait for the summertime.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Escaping the Black Death To Die Another Day

Oribi Mom: Escaping the Black Death To Die Another Day

Black Mamba found in chicken coop.

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

June 28, 2022

Well, it has happened. After five years of peace, we are now in the club of locals who have had a close encounter with a big black mamba. It was in our chicken coop this afternoon, and we didn’t see it.

The two-year-old and four-year-old asked to feed the chickens as they do each day. Their dad gave them each a cup of feed to put into the bowl. The bigger one was behind his brother and happened to look up as they walked to the entrance. Thankfully, he saw a large snake curled up in the corner of the enclosure and held his little brother back without thinking about why.

He called his dad with a casual “Snake, Dad.” Dad walked to the cage to have a look, but instead of seeing the usual Herald, egg eater or green snakes that are often around, he saw a very large, still relaxed black mamba! It’s like looking death right in the face and wondering whether you’ve stepped too close to change your mind.

He scooped up our tiny boys and ran to deposit them safely into my care. He went back to handle things with a fast-responding neighbour and too much adrenaline. I stripped my sons down to their undies to check for marks, a mother’s worst nightmare to be sure. They protested loudly but seemed intact and free of death-inducing puncture marks.

All they needed was a hug, a wet wipe bath, and some juice and popcorn chips to calm down from their big fright. Fortunately but terrifyingly, the snake was gone when dad went back to look for it. Hopefully, it is somewhere far, far away.

Where Was the Black Mamba Before This?

Earlier that morning I had taken a long walk around the farm. In five kilometres, I had seen a handful of colourful birds, a tractor, and a lizard. Was the mamba near my gate the whole time? Probably.

At 29 weeks pregnant, I could probably still run faster than I ever have before if I saw that thing next to me. The experts say that even big snakes like this specimen have a first instinct to get away. But, my two little boys were directly in front of its easiest escape route, well within the recommended five-metre distance you should be away from any mamba you happen to see in the wild.

God’s angels live here, too. So, we are alive for another day in Oribi Gorge. And, very grateful.

Published here.