What I love

What I love about living in the heart of the country is that no journey can be undertaken lightly. It's an hour to Cape Town - most beautiful of cities - an hour to Stellenbosch, 30 minutes to Paarl. So to go anywhere beyond my two villages, perched on the lower slopes of the Kasteelberg, I must plan my trip, and I must have time.

This sounds contradictory. After all most people are wanting do to things more quickly, and I'm happy to do something more slowly. But to go anywhere I must traverse the vast wide-open plains, rimmed with mountains, that connect my small villages with these other towns and cities. This allows reflection and contemplation, akin to a meditation, allows time for my thoughts to settle and new ideas to pop into my head. I love those long journeys.

At this time of the year these wide plains are the deepest, freshest green, with the canola fields a zing and blitz of lime yellow between. I thought, when I moved to Riebeek, that the landscapes would change with the seasons, but essentially remain the same year on year. But recently it hit me, and I couldn't believe it took me so long, that because of crop rotation the thousands and thousands of acres (or hectares) are never going to be the same, from one year to the next.

A few years ago, one October, I was driving back from Wellington and was thrilled by the triangular stooks of hay in the fields. As I approached Kasteelberg a curious Zeppelin-like cloud hung over crest of the mountain. Seeing with a photographer's eye, I raced home to fetch my camera and tripod, and raced back the 6 to 8 kms to take a picture in the slanting light of a late afternoon.

And how glad I am that I did that, because I have never seen that field, mountain, cloud, the same again, and never will. Now the massive combine harvesters that go from one farm to another, like Leviathans crossing the country with their entourage flashing lights, now they cut and process hay into huge rolls. I doubt I will ever see the traditional stooks of bales again. Progress marches on and takes with it those iconic images that make one think of abundance, fertility and the generous earth. We will have to re-jig those images that we've grown up with and seen in countless harvest scenes and paintings through our childhood. Now it's massive rolls that look like a slice of ma's Swiss Roll.

Not that anyone makes Swiss Roll these days.

I rest my case.

A winter Sunday

Sunday, the best day of the week. The day to kick back, unwind, chill out, and spend time doing whatever you love.

These late winter days are like champagne, fresh and pettilant. There's a little crispness in the air but it's golden with sunshine, the sky a huge blue canopy thrown above your head. The Valley is probably at its most beautiful - the wheatfields are intense emerald, the rows between the dormant vines bright green, the distant mountains shades and layers of blue.

I sat this morning with the sun on my back under the huge tree and the umbrellas at Cafe oppie Square, drinking an excellent coffee with some of my family after a late, late night. What bliss - the best coffee and some people you love and time to talk and laugh.

Last night we ate at Bar Bar Black Sheep, where the staff could not be friendlier. In fact many of them are my friends. Last night Derek was controlling the floor while Meynard whisked up his wizardry in the kitchen, and thank you Meynard for finding us a table at short notice. It was crammed, the fire was blazing, the music was cool and jazzy, noise level rising with huge bursts of laughter from different tables. Some of our friends were at one of the long tables, but most people seemed to be from out of town. We sat cheek by jowel, our elbows on the patterned plastic tablecloth, drinking the BBBS merlot, rich and chocolatey and made by Dean on the other side of the Kasteelberg. The food comes in old enamel plates - where do they find them all ? - and is a delicious crossover, traditional farm food with a twist of modern combinations of flavours. What a special and amazing place.

In fact in South Africa this village is the closest that I have experienced to the ancient Italian villages. For one the village is built on a series of small hills at the base of a rather impressive mountain. For another we have these out of the way little shops and restaurants, that you might not see if you zoomed through in your SUV. You have to stop and explore, wander down a side street, and be prepared to look for these extraordinary little establishments. You have to be prepared to be surprised.