It was a cool summer evening just after the rain
A toad was out walking – she calls herself Jane.
Hopping and jumping and humming a tune
In her head she was thinking “now, where is the moon”?
The clouds had rolled in, they had covered the stars,
She couldn’t see Jupiter. Or Venus. Or Mars.
It was too dark to see, she may have been lost
To the pond she must get, whatever the cost.
As she stumbled along, her mind full of beaus
She leapt startled, something cold brushed her toes!
“Oh my! What was that?” and thinking the worst
She turned and she stared, her heart fit to burst.
“I’m too young to die! Oh please leave me be”
But as her eyes focused in the dark she could see
Two eyes stuck on stalks were staring right back.
T’was a small slimy snail – he calls himself Jack.
“Oh Jack I was startled! I got such a fright!
You shouldn’t sneak up on such a dark night!”
Jack’s feelings were hurt and he started to cry
“I’m just a small snail. I wouldn’t hurt a fly”.
Now Jane’s not a bully. She can be quite kind
She patted Jack’s back and said “never mind.
But I’ve a party to go to and I can’t be late
I don’t want to miss my important date”.
“It’s Saturday night, all the toads will be there.
That minx they call Sally, no she wouldn’t care
About stealing my Tom if I didn’t arrive
I’m already quite late – it started at five!”
And Jack, he said nothing, no not even one sound
He just slithered aside so Jane could jump round.
He never says much, he has not much to say
In a quietly, gentlemanly, snaily way.
Jane skipped around, she went off with a dash
“Later Jack!” she shouted. He thought her quite brash.
I think that she made it – she met up with Tom
‘Cause there by the pond I hear a toad love song.
The constant circling of the centre pivots, round and round on the same tracks, creates ruts in the fields. Add water to that and you get a muddy, sticky quagmire and the wheels often become stuck.
This can become quite expensive, especially if it happens at night and the pivot attendants have fallen asleep on the job; the wheels keep churning in one place, digging deeper and deeper into the mud, bearings seize, motors burn out and people lose their jobs!
It was an arduous and back-breaking daily task carting small rocks into the fields to fill in the ruts.
So this year Piet decided to fix the problem once and for all. We hired a back-hoe, dug ourselves some gravel and deposited it along all the wheel tracks, forming a more solid road for the pivots to travel along.
This has certainly made life a little easier for everyone.
It’s been almost unbearably hot this last week. I think the rains have gone, so there’s no promise of relief until winter comes. Even that doesn’t mean much around here – winter is pretty hot too.
It’s been a relatively dry season this year but we’ve had a few spectacular storms which wreaked havoc on the farm roads, making access somewhat tricky at times.
I took this picture last winter, the quagmire caused by runoff water from the centre pivot. Imagine what a 60mm thunderstorm can do to this road!
Thanks to Jennifer Nichole Wells’ One Word Photo Challenge (and Google) I now know that the beautiful pinkish-orange colour you sometimes see at sunset has its own name – bittersweet.
Here is my contribution for the challenge.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Kahil Gibran – On Children
For more photos of siblings visit Nancy Merrill Photography
Piet usually takes the big dogs with him when he goes around the lands every morning. They run in front of the bakkie, occasionally darting off after smells into the long grass on the edge of the fields. Sometimes they come back with an unfortunate field mouse hanging from their smiling, panting jaws.
Yesterday we had to be in town early to collect a parcel at the bus stop, so the dogs missed out. By evening they were stir crazy, agitating for something to do, for some excitement and fun. So I grabbed my camera and took them for a walk.
Although they have very different personalities the black sisters tend to do things together – here it looked like they were marching, their legs moving in perfect unison as they trotted towards the two tanks (and the water!) up ahead.
The dogs suddenly caught the scent of a field mouse, right in the middle of the groundnut field and then the fun began! Pouncing like foxes they snorted and yapped and dug, their tails waging above the plants like flags. Tikkie was in there too but he is short and I lost sight of him – although I could hear his excited barks and growls.
When we got back home and I showed my photos to Piet we got into (a little bit of) trouble – Piet doesn’t allow the dogs to dig for mice in the fields because they cause too much damage and he said they should have known better.
However, the look of delight on Spud’s face made it worth while.
I meant to publish this post yesterday (Wordless Wednesday). However, after a series of thunderstorms our internet connection has been intermittent (as has our electricity supply!) so I didn’t manage to get away with being lazy and saying nothing about the photos.
With tuppence for paper and strings, You can have your own set of wings, With your feet on the ground, You’re a bird in a flight, With your fist holding tight, To the string of your kite. Oh, oh, oh! Let’s go fly a kite, Up to the highest height! Let’s go fly a kite and send it soaring, Up through the atmosphere, Up where the air is clear, Oh, let’s go fly a kite!
Around here it is the norm for most stores to have a parcel counter outside the shop where you drop off any parcels or shopping bags you may be carrying before you enter to do your shopping. You are given a ticket for your goods and when you have finished your business inside you produce your ticket and get your bags back.
I wasn’t sure if this shopper was dropping off or collecting her chicken.