Weekends are for . . .

. . . trying out something new

painting on old pieces of wood lying around . . .

. . . watching what the neighbours are up to . . .
or rather their canine specimens . . .

Slow dance

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,

or listened to rain slapping the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight,

or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly,

when you ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,

with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow,

and in your haste, not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,

'cause you never had time to call and say hi?

You better slow down, don't dance so fast,

time is short, the music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere,

you miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,

it's like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life isn't a race, so take it slower,

hear the music before your song is over.

(a poem by a young lady diagnosed with cancer)

toe the ribbon -- ballet

"Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end.

Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."

~ Gilda Radner ~

The painting is done after a photo by Jeanette. Please visit Jeanette's blog to view her photos. Her photos portrays a very thoughtful, sensitive and stylish approach. I changed the background colour for more contrast.

The painting is in oil on stretched canvass.

a story on eagles

a lovely fabel with the permission of Johan Potgieter of Gecko Homeloans. Find him at www.geckohomeloans.co.za/blog

It is said that before eagles mate the female eagle will pick up a rock or large object in her claws , then flying very high, she will drop the object. The male eagle will then have to swoop down and catch the object before it hits the ground. This ritual is continued until she is assured that he can catch – only then do they mate.

A nest is then built on a very high ledge of a steep cliff, with thorny branches which is then covered with soft down from the mother’s chest features – onto which the egg is laid.

When junior hatches – you can imagine the wonderful life he lives for the first couple of months. He has great view over the valley, nestled in a warm nest and Mom & Dad stuffing food down his throat at every squawk.

But, eagles are clever – at some point, the mom will start removing the soft features in the nest, thus exposing the thorny branches. At this point, junior becomes very uncomfortable and climbs out of the nest – only to find himself on a very precarious, cold and slippery ledge. It is at this point where the mother eagle offers him her wing.

As he eagerly climbs the wing, she kicks herself from the ledge and soars the sky – with junior on the wing – and then suddenly, she’ll collapse the wing, dropping junior to the valley below. It is here where Dad shows off his catching abilities again, grabbing junior & dropping him into the nest. This ritual continues until finally during one drop, junior, out of desperation – opens his wings and finds out he can fly.

a hug for you . . . girls

I received an e-mail from our bookkeeper this morning and thought to share it . . .

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the ground each morning the devil says,
"OH CRAP, SHE'S UP"!

Dear God:
this is my friend, whom I love
and this is my prayer for her :

Help her live her life to the fullest.
Please promote her and cause her to excel above her expectations.
Help her to shine in the darkest places where it is impossible to love.
Protect her at all times, lift her up when she needs you the most,
and let her know when she walks with you,
She will always be safe.

After thought :
Do not ask the Lord to guide your footsteps, if you are not willing to move your feet.

the days pass swift and silent . . .

. . . if busy and enjoy what's on hand . . .

We had a full and enjoyable weekend . . .

Lize went on a camping adventure at the sea (Betty's Bay) for three days

Meanwhile we visited the African Penguin Colony at Betty's Bay . . .

Penguin chicks basking in the sun

From hatching to about 90 days of age the chicks loose their fluff and gain blue feathers

Some interesting facts on African Penguins :

* Penguins have an average height of 1/10th of the average human's height. Penguins weigh between 2 and 4 kilograms

* Plumage and facial markings can be used to distinguish between adults and juveniles. Juveniles are entirely blue-grey colour and lack the white facial markings and black breastband of the adults

*The Penguins can reach a speed of up to 2 km/h when swimming and can dive as deep as 130 meters. A dive last for up to 5 minutes while feeding

And we visited friends living at the sea side village Sandbaai (Sand Bay)

While there I helped Annet to create a blog and Claude kept Norbert company

the past week : a photo a day . . .

Today (Sunday) - sandals for a sunny day

Saturday . . . pooh(f)-reading the grass


Friday - cock a doodle doo . . . follow my leader . . .

Thursday - brick a brag in the grass . .

Wednesday - where flowers flourish in the face of danger

Tuesday - a picture against the wall drawn by the stem of a plant

Monday - favoured clothes for a day's work . . .

spring sprint . . .

After weeks of indoors and trying to survive the rat race, we took the dog for a walk yesterday afternoon (or rather Jessie took us for a walk . . . ).

We were thrilled at the fields rejoicing in springtime. Spring slipped unnoticed and silently into our world. Besides being aware of spring, the little girl (not so little) in the picture above turned twelve. We rejoice in her enthusiasm for life . . . by the dozen.


The most lovely and colourful vistas met our eyes. The grace of God is amazing and touching . . .

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant . . .

sliced orange and girl . . .

The doctor's room closes at 18:00 on a Friday afternoon.

Just before closing time Lize and I stumble in. Lize needs some stiches. She loves oranges and eats it in two ways. (1) She squeezes and rolls the orange without breaking the peel until it is softend. She cuts a hole in the top and sucks out the juice, whereafter she breaks open the peel to eat the flesh or (2) she cuts it in half, drink the juice and eats the flesh. She never peels it.

This was one of those times that she did cut the orange into halves, but . . . the knive slipped and her middle finger was in the way. She pierced her skin and sliced it nearly to the bone beneath the web.

Luckily nothing worse . . . only three stitches and a few tears later we're home and on our way to dinner at one of our neighbours.

One of my first paintings a few years ago - oil on stretched canvass (framed). I never was quite happy with it and gave attention to the colour and shading this afternoon and are now more fond of my oranges - one of which are neatly sliced.

winter haven for pampered feet

french press knits slippers attempted

pattern . . .

yarn and needles . . .

time . . .

and feet to wear them . . .

. . . a present to a friend . . .

never felted before, but now a fascination

see above, the red ones, my first try

felted by hand

maybe the felting process was a bit short - see the toes

But look at the next pair

much better

recon I have the hang of it now

this is smaller - will fit a childs feet (size 1 - 2)

the colour is called Africa

the yarn is Elle Merino Solids

why not . . . a give-away?

anyone interested?

just leave a comment

and I will pick the lucky feet . . .

florigraphy - the language of flowers

A gift of a single rose, most of us know, is a message of love.

But how many know that the ivy stands for fidelity, the peony for bashfulness, the orange blossom for such a giddy turn of phrase as "your purity equals your loveliness," and that the peach blossom proclaims "I am your captive"?

(The Illuminated Language of Flowers, text by Jean Marsh and illustrations by Kate Greenaway)

Can you guess what message a bouquet of poppies conveys . . . ?

Or what about arms full of pure calla lillies growing wild in the valleys around us?

cold and wet and blue

While enjoying the cosyness of a fire, I knitted this beret the past weekend. It is a pattern by designer Kim Hargraves. The yarn is Elle Elite - 50% cotton and 50% wool. The colour is denim.

pink words . . .

"Almost all words do have color and nothing is more pleasant than to utter a pink word and see someone's eyes light up and know it is a pink word for him or her too" -- Gladys Taber quotes

collage of a pink palette in our home and garden . . .

Visit Anneke for more pink . . .

minimalist cardigan

mid winter . . .

looking forward to spring / early summer . . .

wearing this knit . . .

in moss stitch . . .

winter overhang like the clouds on the mountains . . .

red = rooi

Ek en Anneke kleur hierdie wintersweek, waar die berge rondom ons oortrek is met wit sneeu, rooi in. Anneke and I decided to colour this week red while the mountains surrounding our little town is covered with snow caps.

Ek vind groot plesier in my pot rooi malvas. I really enjoys this pot of red pelargoniums (?)

the pic-riddle . . .

a picture taken . . .
does any one have an idea what this is . . .

leave a comment whether you know or just want to take a guess . .

and tell what fires your creativeness . . .

the lucky one could receive a surprise in the mail . . .

pure pleasure cape

I am thrilled with the outcome of this knitting . . .

To photograph the model was pure pleasure . . .

I ordered Knit, issue 7 from Jo Sharp about two months ago. This is my second project from the publication.

Note that I did not follow the pattern throughout - I crocheted a scallop edge around the front and neck to finish it off. I thought it would be more suitable for a 11 year old. I also knitted it slightly longer.

Unfortunately I cannot afford the prescribed yarn (it is not available here) and had to compromise. The yarn I used is Elle Tweed Aran, colour Mulberry, Sublime kid mohair, shade 024 and a very thin handspun cotton (which I bought about 7 years ago) of which I used two strands together.

This is quite satisfying to view my pleasurable hand work on such a colourful sun drenched late autumn day with a nip in the air.

Mother and daugter evening

One of our school's fundraising campaigns entails a Mother and Daugter evening for the grades 6 and 7 girls. The grade 6 girls were the hosts for the evening while the grade 7 girls entertained the guests / mothers. The girls staged a fashion parade of home made hats, using only recycled materials (a pity no photo of the hat creations is available). Some of the girls amazed the guests with their creative talents.

surprise . . .

If you go down to the woods today

You're in for a big surprise . . .
The teddy bears have taken leave; the dolls have their day in the woods . . . today.

Yesterday we spent the day in the garden after a week of cloudy weather, rain, wind and staying indoors. The sun was grinning warmly. We decided to toil a bit in the garden, mow the grass, weeding and give the garden a pre-winter face lift.

Early morning I strolled through a bushy patch of the garden. Behind the garage, close to the doll house I stumbled upon . . . these two picnicking, sharing secrets and gulping up the sunlight.

a love story . . .

This little face tells a story . . . a love story . . . love for late autumn, early winter, rain, colour, running around outside, getting wet, warming up in front of the fire, filling herself with hot food, just enjoying the change of the season . . .

Her love finds an echo in our hearts . . .

At this moment it's raining . . . no it's pouring . . .

I took the following photo a hour ago through the window, after remembering two poems by N P van Wyk Louw. The first excerpt comes from "Vroegherfs" (Early Autumn) and the second from "Winter" (Winter) (free translation in English reads alongside in brackets) :
Die jaar word ryp in goue akkerblare (the year ripens through golden oak leaves)

in wingerd wat verbruin . . . (in the browning vinyards . . . )

Nou lê die aarde nagtelang en week (All night long the earth lies saturated)

in die donker stil genade van die reën, (drinking in the quiet, graceful rain,)

en skemer huise en takke daeliks bleek (daily twilight-homes and branches peek)

deur die wit mistigheid en suising heen. (through white wisps of mist and wispers of wind.)