Do you think a lot, or maybe it’s just me? I like to think and ponder and ruminate about this and that and everything in between. My favourite place is usually the shower (must be the whole calming effect of the water thing blah, blah, blah) but otherwise anywhere really that is removed from the constant noise of living. Anyway I was thinking today …
What do you think you see when you look at me?
Tough and mouthy,
Oozing confidence with a clearly defined life path.
Wrong, wrong, wrong
It’s all for show
I don’t really know and I’m not really sure but I’m learning every day
I’m finding my way
Setting my boundaries
Pushing my limits
Finding my joy
Realising that taking care of me first is the only way to be the best me I can be.
What lurks behind an innocuous bush on an insignificant path in the high mountains ….
This gorgeous beast, who caught my eye while out and about with DH in the hills of the Northern Drakensberg this afternoon. Silently going about its business and looking like an expert web weaver, it presents quite a fearsome sight!
I’m not a huge horse fan, cats are more my thing but on a recent break “in the country” we got up close to these gorgeously speckled examples of the species. The first thought that came to mind was apache horses and Cochise thundering across the American plains, but after a bit of digging it would appear they are officially called Pinto’s by those in the know. Whatever the official terminology may be they appeal to me, I like the mismatch skin colouration and quite a few had different coloured eyes as well.
My mum and I were talking about hands the other day. She suffers from severe arthritis so her thumbs go every which way but straight and as a result she can’t abide her hands. There is no pain but to her they are unsightly. To me they are so much part of who she was and who she is – years of hard work in her business, taking care of her family, being a wife and mother that they are a badge of honour (after a fashion).
I looked at my hands tonight, gripping the steering wheel, making a salad, holding a cup – a few dings and scrapes here and there so with the aid of some fancy techo gadgetry… hand art
“I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.”
Sorting through some photos for printing (DH is an old fashioned kind of guy and likes to look through a “proper” album), I came across these two taken in the mountains July last year. Same image, one very early in the morning as the sun came up with a mug of tea in hand and the other late afternoon after a slog up one of the surrounding mountains.
They strike me as “lonely” images for some or other reason. Perhaps because of the absence of people or maybe because the windmill was on its own – whatever, I like the light as well. I’m sure there should be a fancy technical desription for it but I just like it.
The photograph was taken in the KwaZulu midlands last year, the story is just that – a story.
The creak of her chair woke her up. She started, caught in the threads of a wonderful dream. A dream where Jimmy was still here, where she would step out on the porch and see him tying up at the jetty and come striding through the wildflowers, home to her.
The sadness gripped her heart, now all she had was his chair. It matched hers exactly, he had thought she was a silly goose when she insisted on a pair but now it made her smile. She could see the sag in the strapping and the shiny patina on the arms, the only visible signs of the passage of time and a lifetime of being together.
Not always happy times she thought as she struggled to her feet, the war and the depression had taken their toll but they’d stuck together through all of it. Jimmy would have liked today, the water was quiet and the mist rolling slowly down the hills like someone was shaking out a blanket. What did he used to call it, like a painting by van Gogh or something like that. He was a dreamer, was her Jimmy. She shivered, suddenly overtaken by a cold gloom and wrapped her shawl around her thin shoulders. The sky was darkening and over the way she could see the cows turning for home.
Time to go inside, she thought, tomorrow she would be back tomorrow.
What do you do on the second to last day of the year? It’s an absolute scorcher at home and the best place is inside (well truthfully the best place would be in a swimming pool but failing that) and in an attempt to refine my muti-tasking abilities I find myself weeding photographs.
Today’s offering was taken in August 2011 at Mount Champagne in the Drakensberg (don’t laugh, I haven’t done this for a while) and was one of those passing, offhand snaps – just because.
I like it, nothing special mind you but it’s calm and peaceful and reminds me of good times in a gorgeous part of the country.
So the theory that a series shoud run consecutively got shot to smithereens – anyway at last image 5.
This was taken while hiking to Sleeping Beauty Cave in the Drakensberg. The guide books call it “an easy excursion, take your children” – hmmmm, I’m thinking the writer had too much fresh air when that was penned.
It’s mind blowingly spectacular but hard work, especially in the summer when the water is high and you do a lot of shoes on/shoes off! Do you see the face in the rock? Maybe it’s just me – I thought “The Watcher” would be an apt name!
PS It was a really bright, cloudless day – looking at the photograph now I guess I could have “cleaned up” up a bit and reduced some of the shadow and contrast but sometimes, in my opinion, nature is best left as it is 🙂