The Restory Retreat Centre

  Today We're Not Talking The feature that stands out the most for us about Tafelkop is the fog. In the 9 months we have been living here, it has been and is a constant – winter and summer, early morning, late afternoon, at dusk when we go for a walk, then the fog rolls in through the gap where the road goes through Kastrolnek. As if it were constantly pressing against the back of Tefelkop, discovering the opening, breaking through and spilling over roofs, yards, fields. With the thick veil drawn over everything, we know there are still big trees in the lane. We hear them dripping. Other than that, it is dead silent.   In between. Not quite rain and not quite sky. Not totally dark, but not really light either. Early morning recording at Tafelkop - Holy Saturday Today is Silent Saturday.   The foggy day. Somewhere between death and life, where something has passed, but the new is not yet. Where the familiar beacons that provide our coordinates and make us feel safe are gon...

Photograph by George Angus Very early morning. I’m sitting in my chair in front of our bedroom window, my journal in my lap. We’ve opened the windows during the night, but the curtains are still drawn. I’m listening to the dawn, letting the sounds bring the day into view. I can hear that it’s overcast. It is quieter than a sunny morning when the sounds are filled with energy and activity. On such days the opening notes are an octave higher, there are more and they are louder. Impatient, it has no consideration for those still in bed.  But this morning is more tolerant, subdued. It has time. It is the type of dawn that will write a note to the rest of the day, asking it to take it a little slower. It is just here, on the other side of the curtains, quietly waiting. I would have seen the daybreak filled with mist that has descended from the mountains around the house and has moved up the river to fill our yard and stand amongst the trees, by the absence of sound. ...

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...

The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.                           Carl Sandburg

Christ is the bread, awaiting hunger. St. Augustine Matilda took her father through to the retirement village in Wakkerstroom today. Within a few weeks we’ll be moving as well, so we’ll be close by, living on the farm a little out of town. We know that the retirement facilities and care are very good, but on a personal level we really want him to be happy there. This past weekend we moved his furniture into his new room and furnished it with his favourite chairs, new curtains and linen and put up the family photos he loves. With us doing that, Matilda’s sister Marinetha looked after him and my father here on the farm at Rietfontein. A real logistical exercise to have our hands free and them taken care of. Earlier this afternoon Matilda sent me a picture of him lying on his bed in the sun in his new room, listening to his favourite music and singing along. It is still early days, but he seems to like his new surroundings. To us it is such a relief. This was the fir...