The Restory Retreat Centre

  Tafelkop Spring “The woman said, “Sir, give me this water...” ‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭MSG‬‬                                        Somewhere in the distance is Wakkerstroom The Conversation Elements From The Conversation The path to the fountain changes with the seasons. Here in high summer it is overgrown and difficult to walk. You will not get lost, because the cliffs of Tafelkop lie just to your left on the way to the spring and serve as a beacon. But you often wander off course and with great difficulty get back on the faint footpath around massive rocks and over fallen tree trunks.     Lost   Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you  Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,  And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,  Must ask permission to know it and be known.  The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,  I have made this...

  Tafelkop Fontein “Die vrou sê vir Hom: “Meneer, gee vir my van daardie water........” ‭‭Johannes‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭AFR20‬‬                  Êrens daar in die verte lê Wakkerstroom Die Gesprek Elemente Uit Die Gesprek Die pad na die fontein verander met die seisoene. Hier in hoogsomer is dit toegegroei en loop jy moeilik. Jy sal nie verdwaal nie, want Tafelkop se kranse lê net hier links van jou op pad fontein toe en dien as baken. Maar jy dwaal gereeld van koers af en kom met groot moeite om massiewe rotse en oor omgevalle boomstamme weer terug op die dowwe voetpaadjie. Lost   Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you  Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,  And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,  Must ask permission to know it and be known.  The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,  I have made this place around you,  If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.  N...

Earth's crammed with heaven,  And every common bush afire with God,  But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.                                                                          Elizabeth Barrett Browning Very early on Friday morning, I went into the meadow behind the house to pick wild flowers for Matilda. The grass was soggy wet with dew. Wearing shorts I put on my gumboots to keep at least my feet dry. Later, back at the house after breakfast, I discovered that the dew on my legs had dried into a sticky film. It had the same feeling as the overspray getting onto my skin when I apply varnish with the spray gun to a work piece. Stuck all over my legs were a multitude of grass seeds, hitching a ride. In an ingenious manner, the gras...