If Not Cabbages Then It's A Landscape

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky.” ― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds. Our blue mountains are ringing out tonight.

Of Cabbages and Kings, I know nothing, but I have pored over black and white photographs made by Edward Weston of a single Cabbage leaf; the detail, depth and "colour" (although they are in  Monochrome) are amazing, inspiring me to photograph my plain old cauliflower before it succumbs to the pot and becomes mash! Sharing these personal inspirations helps readers connect emotionally with my journey.

Today I heard Eskom is so desperate they’re even trying to blow out our candles.  They might not get to my candle, but they’re certainly working on my nerves.   The lights have just come on again; we’re back to having romantic suppers in the kitchen and then to bed with our books and coffee, which isn’t such a good idea because by 21h30 we’re asleep.   For insomniacs, it’s a long night when that’s the case.

Instead of going spinning, which I should do, I took a circuitous drive to Chavonnes and Brandwacht-places I love for their scenic views. I haven’t done that for ages; the skies were promising a magnificent sunset again.   Like a hibernating tortoise, I’ve started living in my shell increasingly, but tonight we had a lovely Indian summer’s evening, perfect for a few landscapes before the lights dimmed. Explaining my choice of locations invites readers to explore their own nearby spots.

Our skies are painted with deep pinks, mauves, purples, and blood-orange reds, reminding us of nature's beauty despite the scars of summer fires. The earth calls for winter rain, and I've captured some harsh realities of fynbos turned to burnt sticks, hoping to inspire reflection and respect for nature.

Karen Blixen: If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a colour that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?  From Out of Africa.

The day is done; to bed with me for the second time tonight; I’ll read about Africa again.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this blog because sharing my experiences helps me connect with you. I’d love to inspire your own art or journey. “SUBSCRIBE" to stay updated weekly.