So while I was bent over photographing the little things my DH was a fair distance up ahead on the path. In amongst the whisper of the breeze and the strident argument between a pair of very huffy ducks there was a tortured call of ” darling, look up”. So I did and beheld nothing other than what appeared to a mundane boulder being closely examined by my other half. I put it down to the sun being in my eyes (I suspect he may think I should wear my glasses more often) that nothing looked out of the ordinary. It was only when the call to arms was accompanied by a firm “come hither” hand gesture that I looked more closely and saw…
a rotund, fully alert yet thoroughly relaxed dassie perched on a very large boulder just off the path. He couldn’t have been more than 3 feet away from us and looked to be standing guard while his family of three popped in and out of what appeared to be their home base further up the hill. It’s closest living relative is the elephant apparently – I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t have missed an elephant perched on a rock 😀
Sometimes, you have to tear your eyes away from open skies, craggy peaks and the endless forever and look down. In the dusty, rough path around the wetland there was miniature display of Nature at her best.
The high mountains are full of contrast and character.
Sunday was cold, grey and austere with a dusting of snow.
Tuesday dawned hot, bright and full of riotous colour.
“The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble – to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills.” Philip Connors
This is why I love the winter time in the mountains, the light is spectacular.
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!
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.”