Tomatoes, chillies, basil, flat-leaf parsley and um?

Chinese cabbage? Not sure.....

Of words and sounds and fragrant African dust

It's a glorious day in Johannesburg and I wake with the words of John Gillespie Magee Jnr's poem High Flight running through my head...

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr

I am instantly six years old and excited-breathless in the Cessna with my mother at the Lusaka Flying Club. She has brought a cushion for me, an improvised booster-seat, so that I can see everything just as she does. She calls me the co-pilot, and teaches me the pre-flight checks while my friends are learning nursery rhymes and being coaxed into stiff-petticoated Saturday afternoon party dresses...

Or the bush-smell of the first rains after long dry winters; the warm comfort of the scent and a sense that everything will be alright again, now that the rains are finally here. Lying on our backs in the yard as fat drops kick up dust around us and the dogs run barkingly in circles, giddy with excitement.

Or the cry of a fish eagle in the early evening.

Love the light in the mornings

On the subject of walking I should perhaps apologise to the residents who live along our walking route. My grandmother and I are prone to spirited debate. Sometimes it gets quite loud....and I'm not sure that the sound of 2 cackling old bats is the wake up sound of choice.

Pause for a moment

My grandmother and I walk through a quiet leafy suburb of Johannesburg each morning just after sunrise. This memorial catches my heart every day. Sometimes I see the people who loved him sitting quietly, remembering him and trying to understand how this could happen. There are always fresh flowers, and keepsakes and notes.
I didn't know him, I don't know his family, but my heart goes out to them every morning when we walk past this fragile testament. 
The simple words on the side of the road where he died in his car. He will always be remembered.

And in a country where we lose so many to road carnage every day this one small monument to a life cut short should make us all pause for a moment to say "Enough".

Teenagers

The thing that irked me was the lack of sensible advice. When you have a new baby there are literally thousands of books to choose from and I armed myself with a statistically valid sample. As I recall the Marina Petropoulos book was most useful, probably because it was the most sensible. My own mother warned me not to take any of them too seriously since "the baby hasn't read them dear, so doesn't know what she's supposed to do"
But there was nothing to cover teenagers. No wait, I think The Exorcist probably started as a self-help book for parents of teenagers but the studio thought demonic possession would be a more rational explanation.

Yup, teenager in full hormone-induced rage. Image link here
 
The good times are wonderful but obviously you don't need help with those, it's the wild hormone-swings that make you wonder how the population explosion happened in the first place.
Then you also have to deal with those infuriating mothers who swear their children are sweetness and light, and would never (insert human failing here). I took them with a pinch of salt, I've always been deeply suspicious of people who pretend their lives are perfect, they're either willfully unaware or getting help from chemicals
So now that I have survived two teenagers (the second one has a few months to go) I can say, with some authority, that there are benefits to allowing them to live, difficult as that decision may be at times. It's also wonderfully heartening to know that while there are times you may not like them much you always love them.

Oh yes, and locking your makeup away in one of those petty-cash boxes works a treat for mothers of teenage daughters.

Summer storm

Walter and I went to Winex last night, lots of lovely wine to taste. If you're going I can thoroughly recommend a visit to the Port stand - the chap there really knows his stuff and he insisted we taste ALL the port (hic)
Also quite surprised to see Checkers has a stand where they sell Fairview cheese platters (R30, well worth it) and you get to taste their Odd Bins (try no 300 if you are partial to red wine)
I stocked up on beautiful olive oil from Tokara, love their little tasting bowls so you know which one you prefer.
After ordering a case of Diemersfontein chocolate wine (no I have no idea what it's called, I just know what I like) we wandered out onto the verandah and watched a storm approaching from the south.

Lovely. Johannesburg's summer storms have got to be the best in the world