Lest we forget...

In a week that has been frought with misfortune and stress, I was reminded today of how fortunate I am to have what I have and to be doing what I do. It is so easy to dwell on the bad things that happen to us in life, and every now and then we need to stop.

breathe.

reboot.

About 2 weeks ago, I had to drive to the bottom of the farm to rescue dear Pops from the mud (Yes! Mud! - the rains have arrived!) in my good old faithful cruiser that has seen better days, I must have seen at least ten different bird species, along with several Reed buck, a banded mongoose and a jackal. The birds included all three crane species - rare and endangered birds that we are lucky enough to have on the farm. I drove along the headlands of our maize lands, the sight of mini maize plants standing to attention in their straight lines such a simple joy to eyes accustomed to cracked earth and dry dams. The scattering lapwings with their cacophony of protests as I disturbed their morning sojurn with my noisy, mechanical beast that rumbled past, inspecting the lands and revelling in the muddy slips and slides that added an exciting element of adventure to our little outing. To top it all off, I got to watch as a Gymnogene swooped in to harass a tree full of weavers and, hanging from a branch by one leg, used the other to pluck an unsuspecting weaver out of the nest he was building, and then fly off followed by a flock of frenzied weaver bombers.

Gratitude.

Being grateful for the small things in life. 

Being awed by nature's bountiful offering of life (and death) and appreciating the simple thruths and wonders of the world. 

For the bad times that make you appreciate the good times so much more than you would have if they had come more easily. 

For the struggles that result in hard earned rewards and the satisfaction of a job well done.

For little people who test your limits and full your heart with joy.

For the tantrums and fevers that eventually abate and the giggles and kisses that replace them.

For differences of opinion, yet unconditional love.

For health and happiness.

For Life.

Hi, my name is Leigh, and I am a pluviophile...

The rains have arrived!

Glorious, saturating, overflowing, rain...

I never thought I would be so happy to see mud again. Every time I head out onto the farm I intentionally drive through every puddle so that the resulting spray painted effect of muddiness covers my bakkie like a coat of armour which is then flaunted around the village with pride and joy - until Corks forces me to wash it all off - such a spoilsport...

I just cannot get enough of the stuff. I know that in about 3 weeks time I will be hating it, but for now I'm going to revel in the splendour of glorious wet earth.

In the last two weeks we have had close to 100mm of rain. There is actually water in the top dam near the highway for the first time in over 6 months. The picture on the left was taken just over a week ago - the entire dried out surface of the dam littered with the skeletal remains of thousands of fish. If you look at it today, you would hardly believe that it even looked like this at all. It's such a sight for sore eyes to see precious water once again flowing into the dam.

The weather has been tumultuous, to say the least. The storms have blown in fast on strong North Westerly winds and dumped torrents of rain amid flashing lightning and deafening thunder. There has been a wild kind of desperation to them, as though they're in some sort of race. I'll even admit that the thunder has made me jump on several occasions. Mother Nature deserves the utmost respect and lightning is not something to smirk at around these parts...

Luckily, so far there has been no real damage from these storms, apart from the odd fallen tree and stuck vehicle. Just lots and lots of much needed rain and runoff. The pastures have awakened with renewed vigour - who could have imagined that the Kildare desert still had some life in it after all? - and the cows were absolutely thrilled to return to eating grass again after an 8 month period of being fed anything that we could find to keep them going.

The drought has broken and our hearts are full of hope once more...