city gardening

I returned from sunny South Africa and it’s plethora of flowers itching to do some gardening. The weather here was obligingly mild, so I put my front garden plans into effect. We have a ledge beneath our bedroom windows. It exists because the upper floors of all of the buildings on our street are recessed from the ground floor about three feet. It’s not a balcony really, just a deep ledge. The back garden consists of flower pots on deep window sills. I guess this is city gardening. The realtor in the business beneath us smiled encouragement each time I passed him on my way in and out of the flat to the back of the buildings where I had soil and pots stashed by our trash bins. We now have a row of lavender that will bloom all summer and can be trimmed like a hedge, bordered with rhododendron, fuchsia, and finally a lemon scented evergreen at both ends of the row. Now when we look out the bedroom windows, we see green instead of tar and roofing material. I’ve also got some pots with tulips from our last trip to Amsterdam and two pots with geraniums from the summer that should have died months ago. I don’t have the heart to kill them, so they sit out of favor in the corner. One has flowers on it! Last week, winter finally arrived as the photo shows. We woke to a winter wonderland that seldom occurs in London. The plants are fine, and the geranium has another bloom on it.

South Africa

Happy New Year!

The best way to deal with London’s dark and wet winter is to go south, and Cape Town did not disappoint.

I’ll stick to the highlights. If you want more, please email me and I’ll go on and on. We were there for twelve days, and Paul made sure that we did something new each day. I’ll give them to you in order.

Day One: We flew from London to Johannesburg in the dark and without a window seat, but on our leg from Joburg to Cape Town, Paul was upgraded to a window in business class and gave it to me. I spent the entire flight looking out that window at my first glimpse of Africa. Joburg seems to go on forever with townships dissolving into mines and then into flat, red earth with only a few roads and one snaking river to break up the land. As we neared Cape Town, the landscaped changed to row after row of jagged mountains and deep valleys. Green crept into the landscape and the rock turned to grey and white. As we started our approach, I spotted Robben Island, where Mandela was imprisoned, and the steel blue of the Atlantic. We turned and Table Mountain entered my view, not from the angle of the photos I’ve seen, but recognizable. As we finished our turn, I spotted a wide curving shore, False Bay and the other side of the peninsula that begins with Cape Town and ends with Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. On that day, I would have called it the Indian Ocean, but I have since learned that Cape Agulhas is Africa’s southern most point and where the fish and plants that live in the water are more similar to the Indian than the Atlantic. Whatever body of water it is, the combination of oceans on either side and Table Mountain in between is a spectacular introduction to the city.

Day Two

Paul’s parents, Neville and Jenny, drove his sister, Melissa, and us to Cape Point, the end of the peninsula. We stopped on our way at Boulder’s Beach where African penguins have taken up residence. The beach is open to the public, but only a limited number are allowed each day. A section has been closed to swimming and walkways have been put in so the birds can be viewed without disturbance. On the road south of Boulders, we encountered the first of many baboons with their young. This group was paying tag on the gate of someone’s driveway. Once in the nature reserve of Cape Point, the houses disappear. The road is high above the sea and the landscape is low growing bushes and a profusion of flowers I’ve never seen before. We parked and walked to the first lighthouse. A second was built lower down the cliff because of prevalent mist higher up. We walked along the eastern side of the point to a viewing platform above this second lighthouse. By now, I knew I wasn’t looking at the Atlantic and the Indian, but this doesn’t diminish the feeling that standing at that point brings. From there, we walked west to the edge of the Cape of Good Hope and then down to the sea and another parking lot where Neville and Jenny waited in the car. Paul and Melissa have been here several times but were moved to wonder about the feelings of men like Diaz and da Gama as they rounded the point just as I was. I got my first of several sunburns on this day, tricked by the cooling sea breeze into forgetting I was in Africa after all. We ended the day with sundowners at a restaurant on the beach. Sundowners are drinks that you have while you watch the sun sink into the ocean. We sat on a large patio filled with suntanned and relaxed people. The view of the 12 apostles, a mountain range running behind Table Mountain, was spectacular. Our meal close by was of melt-in-your-mouth steak, unlike anything available in the UK. Yummy.

Day Three

Stuart and Laura live in the UK but were also in Cape Town for the holiday and invited us to go to a game park. We drove east through landscape that reminded me at times of eastern Wyoming, northern Oklahoma and northwestern Utah. Four hours later, we arrived at our destination, a beautifully decorated/designed resort with animal skins on the walls, a swimming pool, and thatched chalets for us to sleep. That evening, we were driven around the park and saw elephants, rhinoceros, giraffe, zebra, wildebeest, springbok, impala, and bontebok, which is my favorite. With night, came a dazzling display of stars, and I saw the Southern Cross for the first time. Orion is in the southern sky as well, an old friend.

Day Four

We had another drive through the park and saw everything again as well as a huge lion in the distance. These are kept in an enclosed area, separate from the others. We visited the cheetah enclosure as well. Two were sleeping right next to the fence. A guide took six people at a time into the enclosure of two others that were free to move about even though they stayed put. It was a bit unnerving to be in there with them like that, especially when we left and walked with our backs to them.

Day Five

We did a three hour tour of Robben Island. It’s about a thirty minute boat ride out to the island. The seas were calm and the spray made it a little cool but still very pleasant. Then we got on a bus with a guide who drove us around the island and showed us things that weren’t just about the prison, like the WWII guns that were built but not finished until after the end of the war. Close enough for government work, eh? Back at the prison, a former prisoner took us on a tour of three buildings, the last with the cell of Nelson Mandela. Two things that were said struck me. The guide on the bus told us that the tours were not intended to create hatred or anger, but to teach and forgive. The former prisoner told us that no one that was jailed there during apartheid tried to escape because that was the act of a criminal.

Day Six

Christmas Eve. From the city of Cape Town you can always see four distinct mountains: Devil’s Peak, Table Mountain, Lion’s Head, and the smallest Signal Hill. I guess Paul’s explored all of them extensively. We walked up Lion’s Head, which is 2160 feet according to our GPS. The path runs up, in continuously smaller circles, with only a few steep bits. It’s a great hike/walk because the view constantly changes from city, to beach, to open sea, to mountains. After the hike, we drove to Clifton Beach and walked in the soft, white sand. Very few people were in the water; and as I walked out knee deep and my toes grew quickly numb from the cold, I understood why.

Day Seven and Eight

Christmas Day. We celebrated Christmas with Paul’s extended family at his parents’ home with an evening feast and climbed Noordhoek Peak during the day with Neville. This peak is south of the 12 apostles, kind of behind Table Mountain. From the peak, we got a great view of Hout Bay. Neville continued my education of the local flora called fynbos (fain boss), fine bush in English. My favorite so far is the pin cushion.

Day Eight: Paul played golf, so I did some window shopping with Jenny and Neville. Cape Town has many malls that remind me of home, and the pound to rand and dollar to rand ratio made shopping a joy.

Day Nine and Ten

Bain’s Kloof. What is becoming with the passage of time the most memorable part of the trip was our overnight hike/camping in Bain’s Kloof (kloof is Afrikaans for ravine). I didn’t think it was going to turn out that way, thanks to Paul’s friends. At dinner with them the night before, we were asked our plans. When Paul told them he was taking me on a overnight hike in Bain’s Kloof the reaction ranged from eye rolling to head shakes of pity to gasps of horror. It gets hot this time of year. We drove about 1.5 hours out of Cape Town to a mountainous region and parked on the edge of the ravine. Our hike took us 6 km into wilderness, starting with a quick descent to the river and then a quick climb that followed a path affording views of the valley with glimpses of the river and even a gorgeous waterfall. We started at the Wit River (White), then followed the Bobbejaan (Baboon) River at its branch. About half way, we met the river and stopped to cool down. South Africa is one of the few countries in the world that you can drink water in the wild without concern. After scrambling over a path of fist sized rock, being scratched by thorny and spiky plants from the knee down, and blasted by the African sun, a swim in the chilly water was more than welcome. While bathing in a pool at least seven feet deep, we saw baboon with babies about 100 yards above us. They moved across the path we’d just come and then out of sight but not without barking a few times. The feel of the cool water on my throat and body and the heat of the rock warmed by the sun are sensations that I can still call forth when I close my eyes. We snacked, rested, and moved on to our camp several kilometers up the river. The last part of the hike was the most difficult and the promised pool at our campsite was a welcome sight. We were rewarded with a long viewing of three buck that we think were Klipspringer (Afrikaans for rock jumper), springing up the rocks like mountain goats. Our campsite did not disappoint. As the sun set, the mist moved in low over the hilltops. Overhead the sky remained clear and the stars lit the night. Lovely. We woke with the sun, our tent covered in dew, and made our way back down with another swim at the pool where we’d seen baboon the day before.

Day Eleven

The wine route. Paul’s sister Melissa joined the rest of the family for the Paarl wine route. It was overcast with scattered showers, a welcome change after the tiresome heat of Bain’s Kloof. Paarl means pearl, a round peak that when wet glistens like a pearl. We visited five farms on a drive similar to what Nappa Valley must be like. Our last winery, Fairview, is a goat farm and at the front is a goat tower with entertaining goats. The cheese tasting was as rewarding as the wine. We bought wine at all five places and left more than half of it with Paul’s parents because we couldn’t carry it all. South African wine is lovely, and they make great port. They aren’t allowed to call it port because of Portugal. If you like white dessert wine instead of red, try a jerepico or ratafia. Yummy.

Day Twelve

We visited Cape Town’s city center and markets, walking down Government Avenue, a pedestrian street, and through the company gardens, originally used to grow crops for the sailors on their way to and from the East Indies. There’s a lovely combination of South African Dutch, Victorian, and modern architecture. We ate our breakfast on a balcony overlooking Greenmarket Square where below wares from all over Africa are sold. A man dressed as a sangoma (witch doctor) entertained us with his repetitive chant. Our last night was spent at Paul’s aunt’s house for an extended family braii (BBQ). I got to hear all kinds of stories from grandmother to Paul’s younger cousin.

Day Thirteen

On our last day, we visited Kirstenbosch Gardens, a botanical garden set up against Table Mountain with about 250,000 specimens. The display of plants was impressive as we took a leisurely walk through part of the park. We enjoyed a tasty sushi lunch, Jenny’s first, then went home to pack. I want to go back and do it all over again!

new york

October 2006 We’ve been traveling, of course. My new job comes with a nice spread of holidays throughout the year. For the autumn break in October, we visited New York. Mom and Dad took me there for my 18th birthday, but it was freezing, we only had one night, and the Statue of Liberty was covered in scaffolding. So I consider this my first visit to the Big Apple. We stayed just off Times Square, next to the Lyceum where “The lieutenant of Inishmore” was playing. Because London has the West End, we didn’t take in a play. Forgive me Rosanne. My favorite tourist attraction was the Empire State Building. There was a line but it moved so quickly that we didn’t have to stand and wait. We paid the extra and went to the 102nd floor. There were only five people up there. It felt like we had a private showing of the sun going down and the lights of Lower Manhattan taking over. Other highlights were jogging in Central Park and the MoMa. We will go back there.

catching up

December 2006: It’s raining in England, and the grass seems to be turning to an even richer shade as I watch from my classroom window. The stark trees, only recently barren of their leaves, enhance the color. After three years of mud, I’m still startled by the green.

This is a great place to live. Everyone has a charming accent, two visits to a pub and you’re a regular, and the world is only a tube ride to Heathrow away. It’s true that my job here is more demanding than my last job, but what takes up my time is London. There is always something to do.

I have Paul to thank for bringing me here, and every day he does something that affirms our decision to be together. I used to hang on desperately to Emerson’s “to be great is to be misunderstood.” I still think he’s right. Now, I counter, that to be happy is to be understood. I am happy to my core.

the point

A Noiseless Patient Spider
Walt Whitman

A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark'd, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them--ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres, to 
connect them;

Till the bridge you will need, be form'd--till the ductile anchor
hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

I have long considered myself the spider in this poem even though I am rarely noiseless and often impatient. I’ve flung my gossamer threads, and you, you caught them. For that, I am eternally thankful. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to maintain the thread between us. I don’t have the time to build and maintain the web site and mass emails seem too intrusive, so this blog is my attempt to make sure ‘the ductile anchor holds.’ I miss you.