The Restory Retreat Centre

Going to the mountains is going home.                                                                        John Muir We live right on the edge of the escarpment in the Balele Mountains which is part of the larger Drakensberg mountain range. Just a few kilometres south of us you have a spectacular view over the plains of Kwazulu-Natal down below before you start your steep descent. Going to Newcastle is in many ways a mysterious mixture of geography and spirituality. Changing over from life on the farm to that in a big and vibrant town. And being able to see this whole transition process in both directions as you are busy doing it. We leave home and within a few minutes literally step over the edge to this town on the vast plain down below, visible from kilometres off. It is usually accom...

All the beauty that's been lost before wants to find us again.                                                                                                         U2, Ordinary Love  Our landlord Johan and his wife Debbie are destined to become our direct neighbours in a few months’ time. They are moving into the house of his late father close by which will make it easier for him to tend to the cattle side of their farming activities. At this stage the old house is being renovated.  By mere coincidence Debbie recently got an old table back that has been in the family for generations and was given to friends years ago. The size of the table (2.75 m x 1.14 m) provided an ideal surface to work on in the ch...

Taking care of Oupa Frans for the past two and a half months had its advantages. Within a very short period we, as new residents, got to know almost the entire medical fraternity of Volksrust and a few of its members in Wakkerstroom and Newcastle. As an extra bonus we discovered more than the medical side of things. On one visit to dr Strauss, who ended up being our GP, Oupa Frans was extremely agitated and uncomfortable while we were sitting in the waiting area. We were almost 100 percent certain that the swollen prostate was again blocking the urinary tract and that he had to get another catheter. The fact that the psychiatric medication had basically no effect was usually a very good indicator in that regard. The receptionist with whom we were by now on a first name basis, suggested that we take him to one of the rooms that was empty while dr Strauss was busy in another. Oupa Frans would be more comfortable lying down on a bed. Getting to this particular room we had to walk do...

Home made fresh cheese and yogurt. Photo by Matilda We never realized that we would meet more cattle than cars on the dirt road to any of our closest towns! This is one of many luxuries we enjoy that we never imagined or consciously asked for when we decided to swop city life for living in deep country. To others this may sound trivial, but it forms part of a greater whole which is altogether as wholesome and soulsome as freshly baked bread with butter. We cannot get over the wonderful views from most any window, the quiet, the incredible night sky, the friendly neighbours, the lush growth, fresh air, sunsets, seasonal color scapes, bird life and unhurried tempo. To then also have the advantage of stepping out any morning, walking down to the milk shed and returning with a jug frothing with warm-from-the-udder cow's  milk, feels like a true luxury, especially since we don't need to keep our own cows, but freely share in the bounty of our benevolent landlord. With many...

My mother's tiny art work. Photo by Matilda Mother’s Day in South Africa. This morning, being a mother and all, I granted myself an extra half an hour of lying in bed. I lay thinking about my children, all three of them more than a four hours’ drive from us. I felt like thanking them for being the ones to bring me to motherhood. I left it at that, knowing that they will all call during the day and make this a special day, even though we have never gone overboard with this kind of commemoration. I then opened my journal as I do most every morning. From between the pages and into my lap fell a tiny artwork. A small cameo of lacey leaves and flowers set into a small card. The artist: my mother. How did it get there? I honestly cannot remember putting it there. Maybe during the move it had surfaced somewhere and needed to be kept safe in order to later add it to the collection I have of my mother’s art work. The synchronicity of it though made me sit up and take notice. Since she...

A lush portion of our vegetable garden Our first winter in this valley is fast approaching. I watch with hawk eyes for signs of frost. My young Zulu helpers and I had gotten carried away when we started the vegetable patch and once the first little seedlings raised their heads late January, there were no end to what we tried to crowd into the beds. Never before in my life have I had such perfect conditions to realize a dream: to have a kitchen garden. Winter seemed far off. I now know that most of what grows so abundantly at the moment, had been planted or sown too late in the growing season. We will not see the pumpkins maturing and even the strawberries have trouble blushing up their fruit. I'm not even sure that they ought to be fruiting at the moment! The gooseberry and tomato trellises are covered in frost cloth. I am hoping to at the very least get most of the beautiful bunches of cocktail tomatoes to ripen on the vine before the frost claims my beloved annuals. I han...