Durban botanic garden

After two weeks spent along the golden coastline, I chose to say goodbye to Durban in a number of ways yesterday. One of then was to visit the botanical gardens, the oldest surviving one in Africa, for the first time.
I'm surprised and sorry that I've not been there before.
I'm a sentimental person and gardens always allow me to sense the pulse of a place I've visited, in particular a place that I've thrown myself into enjoying.
I met journalist Patricia Mackracken there; we had originally bonded in Maputo's derelict but grand botanical garden way back in 2006.
Yesterday we were able to celebrate how vastly improved our lives are since that meeting, which developed into a wonderfully batty friendship.
At the time we were both trapped in corporate prisonships more commonly known as 'a career'.
Life is a lot more beautiful. And I'm free.

Frost

The grass outside is white with frost for a second morning in a row. The field in front of the house is glinting white in the first light; if you were from northern parts you'd be forgiven for thinking it's snow.
The sun has not yet risen, but I'm lying in bed writing my mining pages. I have lit the fire and it's roaring warmth is heating my body, mind and spirit.
The newspaper, except for a few tweaks, was wrapped by 21h00 last night, but with much fun and laughter; I am assembling a team of fine, good people.
It's another beautiful day in the heart of Mpumalanga.

Blackbird has spoken

Morning has broken.
The first frost fell last night, but fortunately it wasn't a black frost.
The fireplace in my bedroom is a meter from my bed, I've had it roaring, cracking and popping since 5h30.
The sun has just blazed above the trees on my horizon; my bedroom faces due east.
My black cat, basking in the new light, is talking to me as if there is no tomorrow; this could almost be Narnia.
In 90 minutes we will see the first meeting of the entire team in our new, work-in-progress newsroom.
We finalise our June edition of the newspaper today. It should take the entire day. I am excited about it. By tonight it will ready for the printers in Johannesburg.
In terms of this space - my blog - I have been silent. I have been ill, I have been incredibly challenged, facing both personal and professional obstacles beyond my imagination. I stared into the abyss, facing fear and failure in the face. This time has been of my darkest.
Yet morning has broken and life is still gut wrenchingly beautiful, and my faith remains steadfast, thank God.
Happy Friday.

Saturday morning

Thank You for the simple, deeply satisfying pleasure of sitting on a couch in the sun on a winter's morn, across from a fast-asleep black cat, while writing words, drinking coffee, and listening to the deep silence of a sleepy rural town.

When the wind blows

The wind is gusting.
Something is rattling outside, it sounds like tin against a wall.
The neighbour's wind chimes are doing what they have done best for the last four and a half years.
The succulent propagated from Kaapsehoop and planted in a mug is flowering. The fine pink flowers remind that I live in a space of miracles.
I'm in the bath reading and telling the truth.
But I wish I was walking into the ocean.