The hadada ibis chick in my garden is getting ready to fly. The sole surviving hachling after his sibling eggs were blown to the ground in a storm, his arrival surprised and delighted us (we had supposed the whole brood was lost). In the three-plus weeks since he emerged from his shelled incubator, the hadada’s world has been confined to a single branch on a tree from where he has watched our comings and goings, tilting his head to follow me with his eyes as I tend the rabbits. And we, in turn, have watched him grow from feathery babyhood to the size-able fellow that he is now.
It’s been a long dry season in the southern tip of Africa we call home. Far too many dry days, not enough rain. Far too little of the precious water we need to sustain life. And yet, stepping into my garden today, there is evidence of life.
Months and months and months of depending solely on the little rain that has fallen but suddenly, in the dead of winter, feisty little buds are popping up their pretty heads. Their beauty astounds me and it dawns on me… this garden is hope!
Ever noticed how we seem to live life surrounded by mirrors. Recently, I had the unfortunate experience of looking into a mirror at exactly the WRONG moment.
I was in the ladies’ change-room at gym, transitioning from Pilates to swimming when I had the misfortune to look up. And behold looking right back at me was Humpty Dumpty. And what’s more… a female Humpty Dumpty in a swimming costume!
Monday January 16 2017. I climb into my car and drive against the chaos that is homecoming traffic, heading to Spanish class in Sea Point. School has just reopened after Christmas break. It’s the end of yet another glorious Cape Town summer day and holiday makers and residents alike, people the promenade in droves, determined to enjoy the last glow of sunlight as night beckons.
I have known for some time that there are hawks on the meadow. Some days I would hear a distinct cry from the tree tops and occasionally, be blessed with a rare glimpse. A solitary raptor returning from the hunt. The sudden, silent spreading of wings in hasty ascent as I turned a corner between the trees.