Tag Archives: Oribi Gorge

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Make Smarter Choices

“This year, we can choose how we want to live, work and play.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

January 31, 2023

It seems like we all need a reminder this new year about the choices we have in life. For a while now, many of us have felt trapped by the after effects of pandemic regulations and all those cancelled events.

We still see those six-feet apart queue stickers on the floor at the shops. We still automatically glare at people who dare to sneeze in public. But we don’t have to be stuck with the way things are.

Why don’t we strive to make smarter choices? This year, we can choose how we want to live, work and play.

Choose To Live Differently Post-Pandemic

School is back in session and everything is open again. We can go back to church and parties. We can go back to the office fulltime if we’ve missed it or carve out new routines if we’re tired of the old ones.

We no longer have to live under the pressure of a masked world. No more pointing fingers at nostrils that can’t seem to stay hidden behind stretched fabric or reused disposable masks.

We might also want to rethink choices like where we buy or rent a home. For example, we can be smart by not buying a home near a little stream in Pietermaritzburg that has a relentless resident buff-spotted flufftail. If we can avoid this stupid decision, we can save ourselves decades of having to listen to that siren-like sound that goes all night, every night, forever. It’s even worse when it competes with frogs, dogs and car alarms.

These rare birds might be a drawcard for nature lovers. But occasionally visiting the stream is a far smarter decision than letting a little bird chip away at your sanity night after sleepless night.

Choose To Live Smarter Going Forward

We should also make smarter choices about our time this year. For instance, planting a granadilla vine that grows up every column on the porch might seem like a great natural decorating strategy. However, it turns out these vines are super messy and difficult to control.

You could spend hours hacking away, untangling, and eventually having to cut it all down without a single granadilla produced. A smarter choice would be to save time by letting it grow in a place it can go crazy without needing pruning or blocking out the sunshine (now I know!).

Whether it’s a vine or a social calendar, smart choices could save us a lot as we reorganize our priorities around busier schedules this year. Our smallest choices still count towards building our lives. The flufftail apparently enjoys droning booo-booo-booo into the darkness. We can enjoy ourselves, too.

In any case, we can choose to be better. Any step forward is progress, no matter the length of the stride.

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

Oribi Mom: Post-Apocalypse? No Just the Mall

“Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another load shedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.”

PHOTO: Unsplash

October 25, 2022

I had a strange experience the other day. Work stuff had been tedious that day and the afternoon brought a very strong craving for fish and chips. So, we took the half-hour front into town.

After some fresh fillets and a little runaround, we went off to the mall. Why? Because that’s what rural farm people who live thirty minutes from the nearest shop must do. We tend to buy groceries whenever we come to the big city (fresh milk is such a luxury). Our family also loves the fresh smoothies on sale for R10 at our favourite fruit and veg shop. Steel straws trump the disgusting paper ones for these delicious and refreshing fruit concoctions.

Warning: these smoothies do not do well when dropped onto the floor – and they slide easily out of the baby seat in the trolley!

Anyway, with two children under five and a pregnant lady, a bathroom break is inevitable on these trips. This time we ventured into the family bathroom, the ones with the tiny toilet next to the big toilet and a low basin next to a normal one. The children think it’s a huge joke. And, at least we don’t have to make excuses for wet tyres on the car in the parking lot.

Walking through the mall was incredibly strange, though. We haven’t really been out much in two years, especially as a whole family. We let the boys have a few minutes on the jungle gym. They were the only children there!

Four years ago, we used to go weekly with our toddler and happily let him play with any other children he found. How life has changed. Now we run the other way if another person is in sight. We sanitise. We stay vigilant about where they are at all times, especially near the surfaces people lean on.

As we walked over to the final leg of the grocery shop, it was equally disturbing. Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another loadshedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.

ATMs had ‘Out of Order’ pages taped onto their screens. Is this the South Coast post-apocalypse? What did we miss? Maybe we should just go back to the farm again. Though, I’m happy to say that we repeated this trip more recently and everything seemed a lot more ‘normal’.

There’s hope.

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: 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: Why Did God Create Birds? SO Many Reasons

“There’s always something to see.”

Diedrick’s Cuckoo. One of the masters in distraction.

July 19, 2022
Drongos really are amazing birds. I recently learned that these savvy vocalists are masters of imitation. Their strategy is to ingratiate themselves to the other bird species they like to shadow so that they can steal their food or hunt them while they aren’t looking. They can copy bird calls by the hundreds, and they aren’t the only species that do it. White eyes are exceptionally talented in this discipline.

Distraction 101: Cuckoo vs. Weaver

This spring, I watched a pair of Diedricks cuckoos harassing a flock of weavers. The weavers were trying to build their nests, carefully feeding grass through knots and creating the most intricate shapes. Did you know that you can tell the type of weaver by the shape of its nest?

As the weavers tried to sort out their hierarchy for mating and laying, the sun shimmered off the emerald and white cuckoos with red eyes as they played a game. The one cuckoo called relentlessly and dive-bombed and flitted in and out of the nest area to draw the weavers’ attention. It had them really worked up. The other one waited.

At the opportune moment, it would enter a nest unseen, lay a sneaky egg, and then fly out quickly before the mother returned. Mother weavers raise baby cuckoos, and it is a ridiculous sight. The giant baby cuckoo demands endless food from a mother that is smaller and not at all similar in colour or shape. The cuckoo’s eggs even change colour according to which species they choose to trick into raising their young. It’s truly fascinating.

Want Inspiration? Just Watch the Birds

There is so much to learn from watching nature. Unlike the cuckoo parents who are lazy (or efficient?), the tiny mannikins work tirelessly in a community. They build together and sit on eggs in one big nest. They forage together in twittering bunches that fly here and there, ever vigilant of cunning drongos. My grandmother used to call them frets, and that seems apt as the mannikins jump at their own shadows.

If you want inspiration, a birding day in places like Oribi Gorge is a great choice. But, you may only have to walk a few steps out of your front door to see something awe-inspiring. Haven’t you noticed the extraordinary focus with which swallows build their mud nests in your eaves? Don’t you see the phenomenal agility and stealth of the African harrier hawk? It raids nests in the middle of town, with spindly yellow legs and light grey feathers a sparrow’s nightmare.

Look around. There’s always something to see.

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.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: 24 Things I Survived in 24 Months of Lockdown

Two years in lockdown included a male boomslang in the laundry that was not happy hiding in a watering can.

The male boomslang in Oribi Mom’s watering can. PHOTO BY HEATHER LIND

May 27, 2022

Has it really been that long? Here are 24 things I’ve come through as I find myself standing in 2022 and feeling grateful to be alive.

#1 Giving birth after standing at the emergency entrance answering COVID questions between contractions.

#2 Renovations – so that we didn’t have four people sleeping in one room anymore.

#3 Sending my child to play school for the first time and hoping it wouldn’t mean bringing COVID home.

#5 A riot that sent us into extra lockdown, food rations, night watch, and prayer.

#6 350mm of rain in one week that destroyed roads, cancelled school, and sent giant boulders sliding down into the gorge roads.

#7 A male boomslang in the laundry that was not happy hiding in a watering can.

#8 Two years of cancelled birthday parties.

#9 Several lengthy power failures, including one recent stretch of EIGHT days with two sick children (on the farm, no electricity also means no water).

#10 Two years of missed church services, Sunday School, and face-to-face conversations with our community.

#11 Another pregnancy, but also having to choose a new OB/GYN as my beloved stalwart retired!

#12 A Christmas and New Year’s disaster where a certain virus I am tired of naming scattered the family back into isolation.

#13 At least 20 months without a haircut from a professional.

#14 More than 24 months of missed Mom’s Group teas that used to be a weekly time to catch up and let the children play with friends.

#15 Losing at least one freelance client due to the pandemic, which forced their company to shut down.

#16 Postponing holiday bookings for a third year running.

#17 Two years of masks, sprays, wipes, looks of suspicion, and a widespread fear of coughs and sneezes.

#18 Two years wondering how long coffee-stained teeth and a lost filling can go without dental work.

#19 Four remaining chickens and three bunnies still managing to eat pumpkins flowers, chew welcome mats, poo on the porch, and scratch out flower seedlings whenever they have the chance.

#20 Yet another season of relentless lantana, bugweed, blackjacks, and burrs.

#21 Finally deactivating Facebook, deleting Twitter, and cleaning up diminishing Gmail storage.

#22 Losing three grandparents and friends, and saying goodbye behind a screen.

#23 Two years without weddings, dates, parties, public events, theatre, international travel, movies, or Saturday night braais with friends.

#24 Over two years without a Zest lolly. Only kidding, we would never have survived that! In fact, those sweet frozen treats might be the top reason we moved to the South Coast!

Two Years and the Tide Is Turning

It’s only been 24 months. We can carry on surviving if we need to, but it does feel like there might be a change in the air. There is always hope.

Published here.
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Oribi Mom: More of a Garden and Fewer Snakes

“As I did, I saw the slender scaled body with its classic rhombic kaleidoscope.”

CJ at 18 months in Oribi Mom’s trusty gumboots.

May 2, 2022

It’s been over 18 months since I was bitten by a night adder in our garden. My baby was strapped to my chest, asleep, as I admired the snake lily just pushing up its first glossy leaves from a bare patch of soil. My toddler was standing next to me, chatting away about something that Bob the Builder had done.

I moved my foot and felt a sharp prick that was sore enough to make me jump. I lifted my foot to peer round the side of my baby in the carrier. As I did, I saw the slender scaled body with its classic rhombic kaleidoscope. An indignant adder slithered into the nearby groundcover as it puffed up and down to show its disapproval at being stepped on.

I couldn’t believe it.

But the hole just above my ankle proved that takkies are useless against snakes, even smallish ones.

One Year On and No More Bites

Rhombic night adder, also known as causus rhombeatus. Photo for illustration purposes only. (Wikipedia)

 

So much has changed, but I still stood in front of this year’s blooms in wonder. As I looked at the bloom in that very spot a year later, I could hear my now one-year-old and his brother playing happily somewhere in the same garden.

The snake lily had sprung its first ever flower, the magnificent paint brush that comes up a few weeks before any leaves start to appear. It was exquisite. The tree it was underneath was finally tall enough for me to stand under. Our home was now a three-room farmhouse instead of the one-room cottage it had been just the year before.

In a way it feels like I’ve run a marathon in that time of transition.

Keep Going – Just One Day at a Time

A slow race to escape a coronavirus. A sprint to ration food as insane riots shut down all safe access to town. A slog uphill through load shedding and another year of cancelled birthday parties. It’s been like holding up an elephant while interval training through a growing sense of isolation.

If there was ever a doubt that digital connections aren’t enough, the pandemic has been living proof. We need face-to-face school, church, and friends. We need someone to call when pain sinks its teeth into our vulnerable moments. It is almost time now to move on.

Who do you call on? Neighbours? Family? God?

There will always be night adders in the garden, but we don’t have to let them take us by surprise. Oh, and we can choose to wear gum boots the next time.

Published here.