Tag Archives: hard work

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Ever-Changing Gardens for Those Who Walk in Them

“It’s time to prune in order to grow.”

Lavender in bloom.

 

September 5, 2023

The thorn tip that attacked my wrist is finally out, and the scratched-up wrists and arms are almost healed already. This garden is thorny, and I’ve left it quite a long time to itself with small babies growing in me, and then being on my hip these last few years.

But this time of year is the final opportunity to get things chopped and pruned and weeded while everything is dry and dying. It’s easier to pull things out. It’s also easier to see into the dense bush and tree in case there are one of the many venomous snakes hiding. We have so many here.

Blood, Sweat, and Some Tears in Our Thorny Garden

So, bleeding arms, blisters, and cut up shins are just par for the course when trying to handle lantana and the many other thorny things I’m trying to get under control.

There’s even an extremely poisonous vine that pops up, with three pronged leaves. Apparently, there are a few species around. The ones with purple flowers are okay. The orange-flowered ones have poisonous fruit and leaves, so even pulling them out is a bit treacherous.

There’s always a bit of sadness, too, at seeing the gaping holes in the garden where the weeds were or where we chop it back. But come summer, that fills in rather quickly. I’m almost through the blackjacks here now. But the moon-shaped burrs are still going crazy. They’re much harder to pull out than blackjacks, too. We’ll get there.

Looking Back, It’s Worth It

If I look back at the garden we arrived to six years ago, or rather the dense, weed-filled bush that surrounded the house, a little bit of pride pops up at how far it’s come. It’s still bushy and rough, but it’s beautiful to me. It’s growing and changing. It’s thinning out here and there and showing some results for all my hours of work.

Like our family that is growing up faster than the weeds, it’s worth the struggles and the blood. And in twenty years or so, we might look back in wonder at all the progress. I hope so.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Hard Working Farmers Need To Be Acknowledged

“That farmer on his motorbike in the afternoon might well be on a joyride. But he might also be having a break from the relentless calculations he has to do to manage the farm’s delicate finances on a daily basis.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

March 13, 2023

It’s common to hear people say that, in their opinion, farmers seem to do nothing much to earn the money their land brings in. That’s an understandable viewpoint from the outside. You might rent a home, work all day, and then see a farmer out on a motorbike as you pass by one afternoon. You might mistakenly think that farm life is just dandy.

Farm life is amazing when you consider the closeness to nature. There’s the raw exhilaration of carving out an existence from the earth beneath your feet. But no, there is nothing easy about the lifestyle. When you look at the bigger picture, farm life is certainly not for everyone.

Farming Has Its Ups and Downs

Do you like bugs, spiders, and snakes? South African farms have them in spades. Do you like having someone else cart away your stinky rubbish with green and blue and black bags handed to you from the municipality? Farmers have to do all of that themselves, including buy the bags.

A farmer gets up early, checks out the farm, fetches staff, sets out the day’s work, and gets everything to where it needs to be. Is the tractor full enough to plough or mow or irrigate or spray chemicals? Has a pesky pest started hatching on the macadamia trees that have taken five years of careful cultivation to even start producing one harvest?

Was the rain last night enough? If the moisture readers in the soil show it isn’t, the day’s plans might urgently change to a last-minute watering of the young tea tree seedlings or other crops. Livestock farmers are even more on the ball with checking their animals for disease, injury, complicated pregnancies and a great many other things that can go wrong.

Growing Things Means Life in the Dirt

Once the dust settles, that same farmer might be able to get home for breakfast. Or they might need to head out with a protein shake to a secondary day job (the one that keeps the family fed and clothed when the farm’s cash flow dries up as it often does).

Rain a little late or early changes the year’s yields. If the budgeted amount doesn’t quite make it, that affects the following year’s planting as well.

That farmer on his motorbike in the afternoon might well be on a joyride, but he might also be having a break from the relentless calculations he has to do to manage the farm’s delicate finances on a daily basis. You still need to pay your employees when your business is in the red. You still need to invest in future crops when the current crops are giving well below what you hoped for.

Are banana exports down? If you stop planting or maintaining your trees, your farm won’t be able to recover by the time it picks up again. If we don’t plant now, we don’t reap later. And then nobody eats at all.

We can look at our farmers and shake our heads at their quirky two-toned shirts and practical shoes. But we can’t say they don’t work hard. Go hug a farmer today and say thank you.

You might also want to offer them a line of credit if you’re sitting with extra cash in the bank.

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: Let’s Talk About Invasion

The birds strip my poor little palm trees, and the moles keep pushing up my groundcovers and trees before they can get going. It’s wild.

At least there’s a beautiful coral tree here in my Oribi Gorge garden. Photo By: Heather Lind.
February 21, 2021 
Let’s talk about invasion. Maybe not the Star Wars (or Occupy Cape Town mansions) type, though.
I mean lantana, for example, the invasive weed that’s ruining every piece of tilled land where something isn’t planted right away. The butterflies love its pink, orange, and yellow buds, and the birds drop the seeds everywhere (which is how it spreads like wildfire).
As a budding gardener who’s just getting into the nitty-gritties, this weed is only one contender for my wrath in Oribi Gorge. Blackjacks and sweethearts (those semi-circle burrs) come in a hot second. The bunnies are trying to help me clear those, but it’s an uphill battle most summers.

It Isn’t Just a Weed Invasion

Between the monkeys, chickens, rabbits, and Southern Boubous, my seedlings and succulents often lose their will to live or multiply. The birds strip my poor little palm trees, and the moles keep pushing up my groundcovers and trees before they can get going. It’s wild this invasion.
What to do when hours and hours of back-breaking work and careful cultivation has come to naught? It’s a relevant question in a global pandemic, not just for those who took up gardening during South Africa’s perpetual lockdowns. As a sleep-deprived working mom of two, my personal choice is often a mini-breakdown with tears.
The exhausted cry of the mom accompanies out-loud roaring at indignant Vervet monkeys as these relentless opportunists scamper back over the fence after decimating my vegetable garden or blooms. My toddler now imitates this pathetic roaring at will. It’s quite awkward when it is directed at passing tractors or an unsuspecting visitor at our coffee table.

It Isn’t Forever Because Seasons Pass

All that sweat, and real blood from stupid lantana thorns, and what is left in the soil? A lonely stalk that looks nothing like a cabbage, butternut, marigold, or echeveria. It’s infuriating. It’s also illuminating.
A certain beloved Gogo down the road has taught me an invaluable lesson about the things under my care: everything needs pruning. When you care for the land, it responds in kind. You need to chop, hack, and discard the dead and dying plants.
Cut the beautiful hedge down to knee-height, and see what happens in the growing season next year. Don’t be stingy about the damage, either. The more you prune, the more beautiful the development. The more you cut down the wayward tendrils, the stronger the bushy blooms are in the sunshine.
Jesus pruned the vine, too. Now, I understand why.
When last did you prune your own expectations, commitments, and bad habits? Lockdown has given many of us these mini-breakdown moments and we’re not yet out of the woods. Go on, test your roots and clear away the excess that has invaded time, money, relationships, and life choices. You may just find life more beautiful.
Also, you may need to get a dog to keep the monkey invasion at bay.
Published here.