Approach to Christmas

This morning my husband and I sat down to breakfast: grapefruit and then that traditional South African porridge 'Maltabella', made out of sorghum, the old traditional African grain, now eclipsed by corn, to the impoverishment of the soil and all that entails. All four advent candles were lit, outside snowflakes were falling, gently wafting down onto the spruce tree, the birdfeeder and the ground. Inside Handel's Messiah was playing on the radio... a truly beautiful recording. And so I sensed the approach of Christmas, the first of the thirteen Holy Nights, and the birth of the Child.

With the cold weather and snow of the past week, outings have been minimal. Perhaps it was this quiet time that brought the space I needed in order to experience the season, and I'm grateful for that.

I'm also grateful to Radio 2, the French program. Saturday and Sunday mornings I tune in, in order to have some classical music as accompaniment to breakfast preparation. But this morning it felt kind of ironic, listening to the English words of 'The Messiah' on the French program. Nevertheless, once again, I was grateful.

Escape to nostalgia, anyone?

'Five of the World's Sunniest Cities' goes the BBC website travel headline. From deep in my heart comes the whisper: "Johannesburg." And sure enough, the article features the place of my happy, golden childhood years.

I remember waking to a kiss of sunshine every morning (or so it seemed); venturing out to spend time in the garden whenever I wanted... unless there was the drama of a thunderstorm and/or cloudburst to clear the air; riding my bike to school on sparkly, frosty winter mornings that melted into midday warmth... Ah yes.

I've heard it said that, because of the mining on the gold reef, everyone breathes in homeopathic doses of aurum. Perhaps that's why Johannesburgers have the well-earned reputation of being friendly, the local populace cheerful.

Which I am not, right now.

On this April morning when the temperature at 7 a.m. reads minus ten, I'm dreaming of moving to warmer climes, where spring, perhaps, comes when it should. I think of my father-in-law, who, at the age of seventy, decided he wanted to return to the country of his youth... England. And I'm beginning to understand this longing, although, climate-wise, my father-in-law's switch would not have been advantageous. Nevertheless he had a few years of enjoying life in the depths of the Devonshire countryside, surrounded by pastoral bliss. Plus, of course, being immersed once again in that special and stimulating English sensibility.

And there, for me, lies the rub if I think of returning to South Africa. Sunshine and friends, yes, but what about the culture (in the general sense of the word)? Here in the northern hemisphere I've grown accustomed to being in the thick of things as it were. Meanwhile South Africa has moved on - in both good and bad ways.

So I'll hang tight for the time being and trust that April is almost done being so cruel.

Greetings

Well, sorry folks... that was a bust. For some unknown reason my laptop lost all my already-deleted-on-camera tree photos and now it's too late because I'm elsewhere. Sure, there are trees in this neighbourhood, but they're not quite so interesting although often lovely... like the prunus that are in full flower.

To tell the truth, I think those techy gremlins didn't like the idea of my next planned post, where I wanted to share with you how this one particular tree, as I walked by it on a hot day, invited me 'Come share my shade'. The words sounded in my mind so subtly, but nevertheless undeniable. And I was happy to do exactly that.

What I started thinking about (apart from trees!) as I walked around the block was how the neighbours and the gardeners and the construction workers greeted me. The usual form was 'hello'. 'Hi' seems to be out of favour right now, as does the spelling I like to use, which is 'hallo' with an 'a'. Without going to the dictionary to discover the etymology, I like to think that we're saying 'hail oh', especially as local vernacular in South Africa uses the word 'ou' for a person. In the UK, however, 'hi' has now added a syllable and the normal, colloquial greeting is 'hiya'.

That's it for now. Till next time, God be with you... i.e. 'goodbye'.

Trees I see

In summertime at home, as I ride my bike through neighbourhood streets, I mentally greet each tree I pass. And so now, on these winter days when I'm lucky enough to h've escaped the snow and ice and am able to walk warmly around a California block, I absorb the sight of plane trees, gums, palms and many more. This made me think I'd like to share something of what I see with you. Here's the first photo, one of an extraordinary old plane, the first of several that I meet:

That horizontal branch is at least a foot in diametre, and at least ten feet long. These several trees remind me of a painting by Van Gogh that I had the privilege to see about eighteen months ago, although his trunks stand more perpendicular.

Here's a second pic, taken from the other side.

It's amazing what presence a tree can have, isn't it?