The Restory Retreat Centre

Garden Android back chairs Boksburg, Gauteng  ·  over a week ago  ·  R500 We make good furniture I’m browsing for two single beds to replace the double bed in one of our guest rooms. It being a room in a century + 9 year old house, I feel it is befitting to fit it out with something truly antique and beautiful. But cheap, in keeping with our non-existing budget for interior decorating. As luck would have it, old, solid and often antique furniture is not in vogue in South Africa and there are loads to choose from on the myriad of Classified sites and of course, facebook’s Marketplace. The prices are often really ridiculous and if I had the money, we would have a storeroom full of beautiful antique rocking chairs, solid oak headboards, antique dressers, wardrobes and an oddment of beautifully crafted chairs to die for. “Look at this!” I show George. "Can’t we make a garden gate out of this wrought iron bedstead? And see th

I have not written for a long time. I’m exploring why. I love writing. I love the process of allowing a story to unfold through me and to then hone it until it shines with the sheen of something made with utmost care and appreciation for the beauty of the material, in this instance, words. How words fascinate me with their beauty! I love how they look formed in my own handwriting, or in the handwriting of someone I hold dear. My long departed mom’s left-handed longhand, or in many cases all capital letters when she needed to make it legible, looking very much like my own. George’s penciled-in notes in books he’s read, make as good reading as the book itself; tiny scribbles often with page numbers as cross references or main themes pointed out. But even if they are typed, there is a balance and feel to every word that make me want to simply sit with it and look at it, pronounce it maybe. “Maybe” – “ Maybe” – “Maybe” – “Maybe” – “Maybe” So why then this long period of not w

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.” ― William Hutchison Murray

Photo: George Angus I put the big cushion on my lap as I sit down. Wordlessly waiting. He knows. How, I do not know, but he knows. I hear him coming in from outside, deliberately  walking down the passage and into the room. I do not see him. I sit with eyes closed. I feel the soft landing as he jumps onto my lap. He kneads the cushion for a moment, purring, and settles in. I fold my hands in prayer around his cold, strong hunter’s body. Gradually, we become one warmth. “But oh! God is in his holy temple! Quiet everyone – a holy silence. Listen!” * * Habakkuk 2:20 (The Message) George