Tag Archives: life

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: One Foot in Front of the Other

The future work landscape is difficult to predict.

The planet Mars. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA 

March 22, 2025

The world of work has been quite the journey for me. I like adventures. It started off right after varsity, newly married, 21, and newly relocated to the big city – Durban. I look back on those four years I spent in retail management and feel a bit shell-shocked. Six bosses, five stores, two provinces, three cities, countless CCMA cases, sleepless nights of alarm call-outs, and many, many tears. Adulting is hard. At a certain point, staying with it and getting the next promotion would have been harder than just jumping ship.

Over the Sea

We decided to play our luck and go teach English overseas instead. Maybe that wouldn’t feel like selling souls to corporations who didn’t see or care. In a way, it didn’t. Then again, there were many moments in those next five years in the classroom that still felt like we were in some rat race we didn’t choose. It was a fantastic experience to go out of South Africa and jump in the deep end of a foreign, non-English speaking culture, earning some real money. The children and co-teachers were sweet a lot of the time. The rice cakes were much sweeter.

We didn’t anticipate being quite so isolated, I think, without our support system. Since it was only meant to be for a short time, it didn’t seem to matter. Maybe we only noticed the difference when we came back again to South Africa and reunited with people who really knew us and loved us.

Back Home

Then, we started working online. It was convenient and seemed like it opened up a whole world of possibilities. We were thinking about kids, being flexible, and not wanting to be in an office or schoolroom that kept us out of the sunshine. Idealistic, maybe. Our dues are being paid currently, but we’re doing it in the sunshine most days.

The journey hasn’t stopped, though. Online work has changed – metamorphosed – since 2014, when I first dabbled in freelancing. Teaching online is now a viable career for many with a better internet connection than I currently possess. Freelancing in anything has become extremely competitive. And then, there’s AI.

I’m not sure what this work thing is going to look like in five to ten years. Working on Mars? On a floating office as icebergs melt? Let’s see, shall we?

Published here.

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The Linds.co.za Blogspot

Welcome to our blog! All the Lind’s travel blog posts and stories are right here to entertain you and get you excited about life. Are you amazed that we’re still alive out here? There’s more to come.

The Lind’s Travel Adventures Around the World

Start by reading our classic Travelinds travel blog of world adventures. This time largely informed how we’ve chosen to do life together, taking us to some of the most spectacular sights, muddiest jungles, whitest beaches, and intentionally out-of-the-way places (we hate crowds!). Those memories will be with us for a lifetime!

While we’ve taken a little hiatus from the fast and furious travelling, we’re navigating another big adventure – some serious parenting – and there’s never a dull moment. How could there be with three little curious and energetic people we’ve apparently given all of our adventurous genes to? We went back home and sunk our savings into creating a home. Still, while the wandering and flight itinerary takes a break, the soul continues its quest! There are always beautiful spaces and faces to see wherever we happen to touch down.

Now, The Family of Five’s Adventures

We’ve come through global pandemics, wars, and the U.S. election calendar still kicking. Now, there’s also the newer Oribi Mom posts, which cover more recent family stories in the local paper. After the daring international stuff, we came back to see if we could put down some roots. So far, so good! For the last few years, we’ve made the farm home. We’re raising three little people and taking lots of photos. We’re also keeping a sharp lookout for Black Mambas, Narina Trogons, and Trumpet-mouthed Hunter Snails.

The Linds Are Still Adventuring, So Keep Reading…

If you’d like to see where the next adventure goes for the Travelinds, the Farmlinds, or whatever you’re calling us now, you’re in exactly the right place. Keep reading!

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Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Doing Life One Tree at a Time

“Mist-blanketed rivers with crocodiles have tales to tell, I’m sure.” – Heather Lind.

The mist in Oribi Gorge, just like in the rainforest. PHOTO BY: HEATHER LIND

October 16, 2024

More than a decade ago, we planted a tree in the rainforest. It was one of those last-minute decisions you make when you’re leaving a beautiful place and wonder how you can leave some sort of mark on it.

We’ve always been free souls who preferred to leave footprints and take only memories. I guess it was a sort of ‘ethical traveller’ decision. It’s the same reason we never rode an elephant or went on those boat tours to see the propeller-etched whale sharks they feed to keep nearby for tourists.

We don’t buy curios most of the time unless the mementoes on sale are directly helping a local person earn a living. In this case, planting the tree was the best of both worlds. We were supporting a local business and, at the same time, contributing to reforesting the badly depleted jungle.

That tree also contributes to the oxygen you and I are breathing at this very moment, 11 years down the line. Yes, we understand that this little side business of the place we stayed at was to make money.

Isn’t it okay to feed your family off the money tourists are willing to pay for a tree-planting exercise? You’re making a living and helping the jungle ecosystem. We even got a ‘plaque’ – a little wooden thing painted with ‘Linds’ on it. They stuck it in the thick mud next to our sapling. I guarantee that plaque is not there today. It was the kind you might recycle later for another tourist by painting over it. That’s okay. The tree, though? I often think about it.

I’ve planted many, many trees since then, particularly on our farm in Oribi Gorge. Hundreds of trees. But I still wonder what that tree looks like now. Is it towering over the little wooden huts with the rickety boardwalk? That boardwalk was really the only way to walk from your hut to the place they served food.

The ground was basically just thick mud up to the knee. Thousands of leeches were also just waiting for you to squelch over there so that they could feast.

I’d still go back to see that tree, but we’re older and wiser now, aren’t we? Imagine what else we would notice ten years on. Mist-blanketed rivers with crocodiles have tales to tell, I’m sure.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Are You One of the Oldest People in the Room?

“You might be the oldest person in the room if you’re the only one not dancing to the Paw Patrol’s theme song.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

June 18, 2024

Apparently, it’s normal to feel a little bit overwhelmed when you have three children (or any amount of children, actually).
They’re quite loud and always hungry. They’re also super emo, whether they’re two and trying to talk, six and discovering that girls and boys look different, or signature teenagers wrestling their natural hair into some crazy modern style.

When you get old, and I’m not saying that I am yet, it seems as though the only time you realise that you are potentially older than you thought is when there’s someone significantly younger around.

You Might Be the Oldest Person Here If You…

You might be the oldest person in the room if you’re the only one not dancing to the Paw Patrol’s theme song.

You might be the oldest person in the car if you’re trying to secretly have a nap and find the people talking like babies for fun quite irritating.

Can’t you just look for birds and buck and tractors and TLBs in silence for a bit? Please?

You might also be old if the thought of a run actually feels exciting. It’s like an adventure or an epic journey you can take because, well, you still can move your bones. Maybe you’ll see someone waving or find a rare bird along the route.

Even more exciting is returning home sweaty, well-exercised, and, more importantly, entirely injury-free. Yes, these legs still work, even though stretching is no longer that thing you remember three days later when you’re feeling a slight hamstring twinge.

If you’re old, stretching isn’t optional. Also, if you don’t want to get old and fat faster because an injury has broken your stride, you should probably start stretching, as well.

But what do I know? I’m not old (yet).

Grey hairs might be making an appearance now, right at the top by the roots. With a 6, 4, and almost 2-year-old that’s probably inevitable, but it feels a little early as a not-yet-40.

Maybe You’re Not That Old (Yet)

I don’t dance to cartoon theme songs much, though that ’90s techno beat still gets the foot tapping a bit, involuntarily.

Lame sprinkler moves and lang-arm sokkies were never my thing. It’s more a side-to-side foot shuffle with elbows bent and swaying. Cool, I know.

Getting old has its moments, but this privilege denied to many is straight-up God-given. I’m grateful.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Egg Not on My Face

“As I walked back in from the laundry, my eye caught something unusual on the floor next to the fridge.”

The ‘joys’ of a cracked egg in a home with three small boys. PIXABAY

May 8, 2024

It was a bit of a manic morning at the farm. Three snotty, rowdy boys and a droning weed eater meant slight sensory overstimulation.

The baby spent the morning clinging to my leg because… loud!

The others were playing ‘cheetahs’ and putting on their cheetah power suits with reeds for tails and dry wors for meat.

Finally, after a stinky nappy change, the baby wanted to doo-doo and took me by the hand to the room. He fell asleep quite quickly, and I went back to the lounge. The brothers were watching some Australian cartoon dog family.

Time for some tea.

Surprise! Mom

While I was up and my leg didn’t have a baby clinging to it, I went to check the washing. We’d run out of water. A quick pump from the borehole sorted things out.

The kettle boiled a while ago, but as I walked back in from the laundry, my eye caught something unusual on the floor next to the fridge.

Those cheetahs probably spilled something in their hunt for dry wors. Unfortunately, a closer look tweaked the nose. It was egg. One of my last two in the house for the weekend.

I called the cheetahs for an explanation. The sheepish smaller one said yes, sorry, he’d cracked an egg by mistake. But don’t worry Mama, as ‘he’d put it back in the fridge on top of all the apples’. Great, thanks very much.

Tea would have to wait for the shelves, apples, floor, and containers to be washed and dried and checked and put away again, egg-free. The smell isn’t as easy to get rid of.

On top of this, there was a pear with one bite out of it that was going rotten. Classic Oribi baby (or any baby really). I guess the fridge needed a wipe-down anyway.

Small Wins and Big Wins

I decided to boil the kettle just one more time. The baby was still peacefully asleep, thankfully.

Just yesterday, our entire community here was celebrating the amazing news that the big-city prospectors had decided to withdraw their prospecting rights application to mine minerals on our farms in Oribi Gorge.

Apparently, the operation would be environmentally unfeasible. What a surprise, right? The oribi, ground hornbills, and Cape vulture colonies are safe for now.

A little bit of egg cleanup seems like a very small price to pay for a farm that’s still ours and still so beautiful.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: The Beach Never Gets Old

“Where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye?”

Heather and Robin Lind.

April 23, 2024

An old friend’s son has just turned 18. He was 11 just last week. A certain Oribi Dad’s big midlife birthday is also fast approaching. I can still remember the moment our eyes met for the first time like it was five minutes ago. Toes in beach sand, but wearing a jersey because it was the middle of July. South Coast living is very kind in that way. You can grab a jacket but still get away with shorts and slops most days of the year.

My 15-year-old self was a little different from now. Bolder, and much cheekier, with a smaller waist and an even narrower worldview. All of the people there teased us about a summer fling that was sure to end once we all got back to school. We didn’t even live in the same town. Twenty-three years later, our fling is a ring, three sweet sons, two dogs, and many memories of other beautiful beaches we’ve explored together. What are the chances?

Also, where did those twenty-something years go in the blink of an eye? We’ve already moved past so much life and so many changes. I still like Turkish Delight, but it sits on the hips a little easier these days. He still likes Greenday and jokes about it near the end of every September. The Lion King still makes both of us gulp back the tears. It’s 30 years old. Thirty! That’s as old as the new South Africa!

What was I doing thirty years ago? Grade 2, I think, with Mrs Bentley, who loved tennis and dyeing her hair strange colours. She was certainly younger then than I am right now. There’s a thought. She loved tennis, as I did, which is probably why I remember her hair and mini skirts. That was what we wore to play tennis then. Little skirts with ball holders clipped on the back of them, so we could serve with only one ball in our hands and not throw it up skew. We must have been so cute! We thought we were the bee’s knees.

In another thirty years, I’m sure I’ll have a more mature perspective on my life right now. What will it look like from over there, to look back in this chaotic and exhausting mother-of-three-little-boys phase? Why did I use to think it was so hard? Who knows?

That’s why we do it as best we can in each moment. Isn’t each of those moments life itself?

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Welcome to the Farm

“It was a wonderful weekend.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAYJune 19, 2023 

So, there’s this welcome sign on our cottage front door, a relic of some previous tenants that have long since moved on to other adventures. It’s pretty, and kind of green. A nice touch for a little one-room space that’s seen quite a few people come and go.

Time For Some Visitors on the Farm Again

There were a few less while we were in the middle of the pandemic, but the other day we opened up the cottage to visiting family members for two nights. We managed to get it looking quite fresh. We even removed the giant black scorpion that had made its home in one of the corners.

It took around a week of mad cleaning, scraping, scooping, spraying, and wiping. Endless layers of dust seem to accumulate so quickly from cane fires, dusty roads, and the cement factory down the valley.

Nice Visitors Are Always Welcome

At some point, we noticed a hornet or two staring at us from a wall or a window. A baby brown house snake appeared and then disappeared, hopefully to the garden. Thankfully we didn’t find mold or bigger slithering residents. And the windows opened up the whole place to a nice breeze and the beautiful smell of the basil outside in full bloom.

It was a wonderful weekend. We celebrated. We chatted. We hid from the massive rainstorm that brought about 45mm to the farm in less than two hours. Some of us whispered prayers of thanks under our breath that the storm only managed to find two drips from the ceiling. Nothing came crashing down.

And then, we waved goodbye armed with lots of photographs, including one of a tiny little tilapia that an ecstatic three-year-old fisherman hooked.

Some Not So Nice Visitors Aren’t As Welcome

Cleaning up just took a few minutes. And, we closed up the cottage again so that the next guests might have slightly less dust to contend with.

For good measure, I sprayed the old ant nests we’d vacuumed up from all the inside walls. Then, I sprayed the welcome sign as an afterthought, just in case the ants had started eating through the wooden door under there… and, I had to run fast!

As I sprayed, about thirty hornets angrily emerged to show me what they thought of my cleanup efforts. They didn’t get me. Thankfully, they hadn’t got my guests, either.

Still, the irony of that warm welcome wasn’t lost on me. Next time, we’ll at least warn our unsuspecting visitors!

Published here.

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.