mother nature – Page 2

Our Cottage Might Be Small

Sometimes less can be more…

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Under the jacaranda trees
In the soft dappled shade,
On a newly cut lawn,
With a lunch freshly made;
Sipping a cold drink,
Eyes gently closing,
The peace and the quiet,
Awesome and imposing.
Neon purple flowers
Occasionally falling
As the afternoon breeze
Now comes a-calling.
Butterflies float by,
Their painted wings flapping,
The dog missing their dance
As she lies quietly napping.
A drongo sits drinking
At the water fountain;
Watched over and guarded
By our beautiful mountain.
Our cottage might be small,
But it’s big on the giving,
It’s all we’ll ever need
For the life we’re now living.

Jasmine

I am so lucky that I can now smell the jasmine.

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It’s the start of my day,
With my dog at my side,
As I walk through the garden
There’s a smile I can’t hide
As I’m wrapped in the smell,
As I pass through my gate,
Of the jasmine’s perfume,
That lies there in wait
To attract me and the bees,
So we can both take our pleasure,
The bees hard at work,
Me, hard at leisure.

The scent heavy in the air,
As night becomes day,
Before the morning breeze
Carries the fragrance away.
And as I pause by the gate,
Close by where the jasmine rest,
Indulging myself
In what nature does best,
I think of earlier times,
Of how my days used to begin,
And why I had no time then
To smell the jasmine.

Berg Wind

Berg wind conditions – let’s hope it brings rain!

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A fierce berg wind is blowing,
Driving across The Karoo,
The parched, punished ground
Being savaged anew,
As the last drops of moisture
From the withered plants wrung
While the trees forced to bow,
Their heat weary heads hung.

It may be a sign of a weather change,
Brought on a by the wind that blows hot;
Maybe it might bring some much needed rain
My head says probably not;
But my heart still hopes that I am wrong
And the wind will bring relief;
Until then the berg wind continues to howl,
The moisture stealing thief.

Maybe Tomorrow the Rain Will Come

And still no sign of the rain that we desperately need…..

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Maybe tomorrow the rain will come,
Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear the drops drum
On the tin roofs, so tortured by heat
And so desperate to feel those rain drops beat.

Maybe tomorrow we will feel on our face
Those long cooling drops falling from space,
Soaking the ground as well as our clothes,
Maybe tomorrow, but who really knows.

Maybe tomorrow the farmers can smile,
As the rain comes after such a long while;
Stock they can’t feed, crops wilt and die.
They say rain tomorrow, but is it a lie?

Maybe tomorrow, the forecasters say,
But with our emotions they must never play,
For once they just need to get their facts straight,
As for the rain we all anxiously wait.

Maybe tomorrow we’ll wake up to feel
The cooler weather as the dark clouds steal
Across the blue sky, promising us that rain,
Maybe tomorrow, but are we hoping in vain?

Heavy Weather

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The weather’s heavy today,
Think I’ll stay indoors;
Don’t get on with heavy weather
So I’ll put my day on pause.
Grey and oppressive,
Thick humid air,
Hopefully bringing rain,
But I don’t know from where.
A warm night in prospect
If we don’t get a breeze,
A stoep sitting night
Downing a few long iced teas
And hoping that tomorrow
Freshness returns once more,
Until then this heavy weather
Is such a pain to endure.

Morning Walk

I take Jess, my border collie, for an early morning walk every day.. it’s a treat for both of us.

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Its six in the morning,
Bedford’s still sleeping,
The new day’s sun
Over the mountain just peeping;
The air still fresh
From its night time chilling,
A sense of utter peace,
Both eerie and thrilling.
A clear blue sky,
No clouds detected,
No sign of any breeze,
The stillness perfected.
And as Jess and I walk
The quiet, empty streets
I try to digest
All of the new day’s treats.
The best time of the day,
Of that there’s no doubt,
And we have it to ourselves,
No one else is about.
It’s like a gift we’ve been given,
Our own special prize,
Jess and I walking
Just after sunrise.

A Life More Simple

Moving to the Karoo has made me realise the joy there is to be found in a more simple lifesyle.

tpotg-simple-life-01 A life more simple
Is what I used to crave,
If I distanced life’s stresses
Perhaps I’d distance the grave.
Getting closer to nature,
Less controlled by man-made;
The colour of my life
Needed a much softer shade.
I needed to learn more
About what’s important to me
And from life’s false pretensions
I had to break free.

So the move was made,
The bullet was bitten,
And by the much simpler life
I’ve truly been smitten.
A shift in my focus,
On what gets my attention,
My old corporate days
Now don’t get a mention.
And as I make friends with nature,
In her various disguises,
I’ve discovered another world,
A world full of surprises.

Now I can just sit on my stoep,
Engaged in idle chatter,
Not worrying about the time
Because time doesn’t matter.
Listening to the birds singing,
Quietly observing them drink,
Seeing clouds kiss the mountains,
Watching their shadows shrink,
Awed by the Karoo landscape
By its harsh rugged charm,
As the buck roam freely
Across our neighbour’s farm,

And as the day ends
And dusk slowly nears,
The kaleidoscope of colours
As the sun disappears;
Then that magical joy
Of a star filled sky;
That’s the life more simple,
Why not give it a try?

Storm on the Ridge

Living on a ridge, looking out to sea, you can see the weather approaching…….

TPOTG-storm-across-the-bay-frame-01 Low pressure is building,
Forecasters are right,
And a storm is coming our way.
Dark clouds and the wind,
Conspiring together,
To spoil the peace of the bay.

Windows are closed
And doors are shut tight,
A sensible precaution to take.
We’ve seen it before,
What a big storm can do,
The damage that’s left in its wake.

A wild wind now howling
Across the ridge,
Nothing can escape from its path;
Trees bow in homage
To the lord of the storm,
But nothing will appease his wrath.

Rain clatters down
In great heavy bursts,
Soaking the hard, parched ground;
And birds and animals
Seek out some shelter,
Wherever it can be found.

Lightning forks
Streak across the sky,
It’s nature’s most fearsome display;
And the thunder god Thor
Sounds so very close,
Although we know that he’s so far away.

The sea is now angry,
White horses appear,
The waves are crashing the shore;
Adding to the noise
Of the thunder and wind,
In nature’s cacophonous roar.

Windows and doors
Rattling in their frames,
Roof timbers beginning to creak.
Exposed to the wind,
Which whirls round the house,
Searching for a spot that is weak.

The roar of the wind,
The drum of the rain,
There’s no chance to get any sleep.
With a storm outside,
Wanting to come in,
It’s such a long vigil to keep.

Then all of a sudden
The wind seems to go,
In a rush to be quiet once again.
Daylight breaks,
And the sun pushes through
Driving away all the rain.

The sea returns
To its gentle swell,
Its waves now caressing the shore.
The birds reappear,
Singing their songs,
Peace is back on the ridge once more.

Sometimes less can be more…

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