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Could try harder

Posted on May 28, 2016 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

The blog has suffered because I’ve gone back to school. I’m doing a Masters in Philosophy in Coaching (MPhil means you do a significant research piece, that’s for next year). Weeks like this one, spent at the business school, are intensive and in between there’s lots of study and lots of writing. Along with launching my new business there’s just about time to run but not much time to write about it.

One of the subjects I was thinking about tonight on the run was the challenge of confidence and humility in business leaders, and specifically in myself as a leader and a coach. I’d say I don’t have enough of either. Confidence isn’t too hard to think about. I don’t want to waffle on so in a nutshell, in many ways confidence is everything, it allows you to be grounded and forget yourself so that you can immerse yourself in the flow of whatever it is you are doing. Lacking an edge of confidence might not be a bad thing though. In my case it’s the endless “could try harder” I got as a child instead of positive reinforcement in the form of praise. Yet it gives me an edge, makes me work a bit harder. I’m a bit of an Avis type: I may not be No 1 but I try do harder.

Humility as a notion is altogether more difficult. I’m trying to uncouple the notion from the famous role models like Mandela, Ghandi and Mother Teresa. They may be shining examples of humility but it’s a public and political humility. The kind I’m trying to understand is a humility that a great business leader or star sportsman or woman can epitomise. Utterly genuine, held in a context of great work or great sporting success. How can you develop and encompass that humility? Indeed what is it?

These are the questions the study leads me to consider…

The evening was mild with heat from the warm day beating up into the cooling air and as we ran along the path at the very top of the farm we came across one of my favourite flowering bulbs, the gold and brown Gladiolus maculata. Elegant and queenly, the flower heads arched into the path in front of us.

Gladiolus maculata

The small brown Afrikaner

The Eriocephalus africanus is early this year compared to last – as are many flowers – the warm wet autumn must have a lot to do with it.

Eriocephalus africana

Wild rosemary

As we ran down the mountain Maebh paused and the last rays from the west caught the ghostly tips of her coat, illuminating her in the evening light.

I have so many other flowers to post, but this magical evening run deserved a blog to itself.

Irish Wolfhound

Writer’s block

Posted on February 16, 2015 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

For several weeks now I’ve been wondering why I haven’t written a blog. After all I’ve been running on the mountain, in fact my fitness is pretty good. The dogs and I have had several splendid morning and evening runs. The weather is fabulous for us – this has been the coolest summer we’ve spent on the farm and dogs and humans have relished it. We love the sun, but extremes, often as high as 40 degrees, can be harsh. I did go to Europe for work a couple of weeks ago – to a freezing cold and rather depressing Paris, a city I dearly love but which was in mourning not only for Charlie Hebdo but for the loss of freedom that accompanies terrorism. The weather was as bleak as the mood although a cancelled meeting meant some rewarding shopping and one or two excellent dinners helped cheer me up.

So why no blog? The question resolved itself yesterday when I was running on the top road. At this time of year the flowers die back – the middle of summer here is like the winter elsewhere, with little new growth. The point of this blog is to share the amazing beauty and variety of flowers that grow here on the farm. And the flowers hide from the heat and the harsh sunlight.

Then yesterday I saw a splendid flash of pink at my feet. An Erica had burst into flower. Of course there are 660 fynbos subspecies of Erica, so they are not always easy to identify, and lots of them have pretty pink bells like this one. Given the season and the dark pink flowers this could be Erica pulchella. Tiny and absolutely lovely.

Erica pulchella

The other flower that is in full bloom is this yellow pea called Aspalathus divaricata Subs divaricata (Franschhoek form). A long name to describe a pretty rambling Cape Gorse that flowers in the driest period of the year.

Aspalanthus divaricata

Although there are few flowers, there is plenty of life stirring and getting going. The Leucadendron salignum which lights up the mountain on dark winter days with it’s lime green colour is putting out new reddish pink growth at the moment. And the Protea repens, the most common Protea on the farm, are covered in sticky buds, just about to flower – indeed the very first flowers have just emerged. Could it be a sign of early rains to come? They always flower before the first rains. We had a cloudy morning the other day – it’s rare and pleasant at this time of year, and the new growth coloured the mountain.

New growth of the Leucadendron salignum

Leucadendron salignum

Budding Protea repens

The first Protea repens in flower

Then there are the shining grasses. As we drive down the road in the evening the light floods the new vines planted just below our neighbours house and the grasses literally dazzle the eye in pink and white. I sent this photo to our neighbour and she commented that “they shouldn’t be there” so I daresay that next year the grass will be cleared and this extraordinary display of light will disapear. For the next few months these shining grasses line the roads and catch the light in a display of pink and white luminosity; I absolutely love them.

The shining grasses

Even after the sun has gone the flowers retain a luminous quality

Other excitement included the dogs putting up a tiny duiker who shot up the mountain and then ducked behind a buchu plant. The girls were giving chase and didn’t even glance at its hiding place and I pretended to see nothing and continued up the mountain. Not long afterwards the girls were still gamboling in the lands and a glossy chestnut coloured rhebok jumped out in front of us. Seamus was just ahead of me, but supervising the girls and although she was only a couple of feet from him, she looked at us in astonishment and leapt for cover so quickly that he didn’t even see her. Or pretended not to. So much for being a sighthound.

Maebh on the hunt

The sunsets are often incredible. On that cloudy day the dying rays caught the cloud above the dam and turned it perfectly pink, which was then reflected in the water, a perfect end to another wonderful day at home in Africa.

Skipping up the mountain

Posted on December 9, 2014 by fynbosblog 2 comments

After a week of howling wind that has distressed the garden and stripped the leaves and lots of baby olives off the trees, we finally had a quiet, damp, cloudy morning today. This kind of weather is much more conducive to flower photos so we managed to capture a few we’d missed.

The Christmasberry, Chironia baccifera is in flower all over the place. It has these pretty pink flowers now, and later in the year it will be covered in beautiful red berries.

Chironia baccifera

As I’ve been running up the mountain in the past week I realised a sad truth. We went to the bush for a few days at the end of November. I love everything about the bush except for the fact that going running would make you a nice, easy, soft pink target for the predators. So you can’t run. A few years ago I realised the solution was to bring a skipping rope and this time I was quite good about skipping in the mornings. It’s very boring, but it does work and to my amazement when I got home I ran quite effortlessly up the mountain. Next time I’m struggling with fitness I’ll get that rope out. Tiresome with amazing results.

Another tiresome thing is that I’ve missed some flowers. I caught these comb flowers, Micranthus alopecuroides at the beginning of their flowering and this morning caught the end of the flowering, they are a little tatty but still very pretty.

Micranthus alopecuroides

Something happened while we were in the bush and it was funny enough to be worth the telling. We came back from a game drive and I did my skipping, followed by a lovely brunch. Tired from the early morning start, the exercise and the indulgent brunch, I decided to go for nap. Off I went to our room, the last little cottage along the river, and lay on the bed. It was hot; at this point I have to admit I was naked. I duly fell asleep. A noise woke me. I looked up. Sitting on the balcony, lined up in rows as if in a cinema, the babies sitting on the shoulders of the adults, staring in at me through the huge windows, was an entire troop of baboons. Just watching me sleep. It was the most bizarre feeling. I sat up. They didn’t move, just stared. It was rather unnerving. Then quite quietly I said “go away” and equally calmly they all left. I watched them go, en famille, off along the river bed. We didn’t see them again for a couple of days.

Back to the flowers. I have no idea what this pinky red pea is. I’ll post it on ispot and see if we can find out.

Unidentified pinky red pea

These are an old friend, Selago corymbosa, quite common and very charming.

Selago corymbosa

I went for a walk the yesterday evening. I’d missed the morning run and when the wind dropped in the evening I thought the dogs would like a walk. They certainly did and I took a couple of beautiful photos of Maebh. The focus isn’t perfect her coat looks great in the evening light.

Maebh in the evening light

Maebh in James’s lake

One of the first things to flower at the end of summer is the Protea repens and I think this might be a second flowering, it’s unusual to see them at this time of year.

Protea Repens

I think this one is a Crassula but I’m not sure which one so once again I will ask the iSpot experts to identify it for us.

Crassula?

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Gone with the Wind

Posted on November 18, 2014 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

So there I was only a couple of weeks ago feeling triumphant and even rather pleased with myself. Then it struck me. Not a brilliant idea; a tummy bug. At first I hoped it was a 24 hour tummy bug but then I realised it didn’t have a time frame. It took me a few days to realise I was actually really quite ill and by then I was already bored of it so I went to see the fabulous Dr Shelley and explained that I had to be on a plane to Plettenburg Bay in the morning. “Have to?” says the Doc. “Well, want to” says I. She sharpens up her needles and gives me 5 injections, or was it 6? I lost count. “Now you’ll be able to travel if you want to,” says she “but if you do this will just go on for longer.” She’s better at prediction than the weatherman; it took me another full week to be over it completely and back on the mountain again.

Everyone always says that the great thing about tummy bugs is that you lose weight, and while it’s true while you’ve got the bug, I always worry about compensating afterwards. So I got back out on the mountain as soon as I could and after two or three runs I’m feeling pretty good out there. I know I’ve missed some flowers though, which is always a bit sad – will have to wait until next year. Fynbos bulbs can come and go in a day, but the shrubs are amazing – they will flower for months. One example is the Lobostemon Fruticosus which is such a friend, I posted a photo of it in August and it is still flowering now. On a bright hot day the flowers dim but a little grey and a dash of rain and they glow on the mountain.

Lobostemon fructicosus

It’s wonderful to recognise some special flowers that I identified last year and this is one of the them. I notice them more this year, scattered all over the place and in partiular in one small shady area where a whole clump of them grow, but where the light didn’t lend itself to a good shot of the clump and we may try for a better photo of this charming Tritonia undulata the next time we are out.

Tritonia undulata

A rather dark photo on a bright day – it’s almost impossible to get a good shot of a blue or white flower in bright sunlight. I was glad I caught this Walhenbergia capensis on a run just before the flu hit, they are all gone now.

Wahlenbergia capensis

And isn’t this one absolutely gorgeous? Another one that I captured on the run just before I had to stop and I’ve completely forgotten where I saw it and of course it has disappeared now. I think it’s Geissorhiza exscapa.

Geissorhiza exscapa

I promised a better photo of the fabulously named lily, Wachendorfia paniculata. This one grows along the drive and I was feeling so well on Sunday that at the end of our run the dogs and I trotted all the way down to find and photograph it while the light was dappled and it was still looking good. Look how it glows against the yellow-grey sandy wall.

Wachendorfia paniculata

The flowers are amazing and really, that’s the point of the blog yet there are so many other special things, it’s just that flowers look great in pictures. The grasses are absolutely gorgeous and I often try to capture their whimsical or even dramatic charm. The iPhone doesn’t usually get it, but this one was a good attempt and I think these are Willdenovia incurvata.

Wllldenovia incurvata

Willdenovia incurvata

As we bounced up the mountain the morning before I fell ill the wind was howling and I had decided not even to try and take a photo. Then we came across this gorgeous Gladiolus angustus. Luckily I decided that despite the wind I’d take a photo. When I finally passed the same way 12 days later there was not the tiniest sign of it.

Gladiolus angustus

And finally – there is always a sunset. I don’t capture them every day. This one was special.

Sunset in the Western Cape

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Bulbs and a Couple of Peas and an Irish Wolfhound or two

Posted on September 30, 2014 by fynbosblog 3 comments

What a busy week it has been. I must apologise to friends who prefer the chatty blog to the technical botanical blog. At this time of year there is so much to share, so we have a botanical phase for now and more chat will inevitatably follow.

Although I have been wanting to post a collection of flowering bulbs for some time there was a small problem with identifying one or two. The best way to get help is to post on ispot, where the South African flora and fauna geeks all post their sighting and help one another out with identification. Sure enough, within a couple of days I’ve had some help and can now happily identify a paricularly pretty apricot flower as yet another Moraea, this time miniata.

Moraea miniata

The other one is our most common gladiolus, which the experts identify as the famous and common Painted Lady, Gladiolus carneus, known as the White Afrikaner. This must be right yet it is also frustrating as the books insist on the red splash on the lower petals while mine splash yellow. Everything else fits though and they are just coming into flower now so I’ll be on a determined hunt for red splashes and I’m sure over the next few weeks I’ll post a few more photos of this really stunning Gladiolus.

Gladiolus carneus

The White Afrikaner, the painted, lady

Running last week was great from a running point of view as the weather was dry and windy and I have learned that taking pictures of flowers is best left for days with little or no wind. The dogs loved the faster pace and once again we had a photogenic moment when Seamus and Maebh stopped at Fox Pan for a drink as we ran up the dry side of our farm.

There is such an abundance of flowers this year and every step of the run means another group or another flower. There are shrubs I haven’t stopped to photograph because I think, they’ll still be there in a couple of weeks. Flowering bulbs are different, they have a short life and you only get a few days to capture them. I know I don’t see them all, for example last year I completely missed this dramatic Moraea bellendenii and this lovely Aristea spiralis which both flower at the same time, when I was away.

Moraea bellendenii

Aristea spiralis

Other bulbs that flower at this time of year include Geissorhiza aspera, which opens when the sun shines and covers the lands in blue stars. And yet another Aristea, the pretty Aristea africana, which is often used in gardens. The pink Wurmbea punctata is much less common and easy to miss, it’s snuggled up to several shrubs along a busy road and there are very few of them. The Baeometra uniflora which is not very prettily known as the Beetle Lily, it is choosy about where it lives and grows prolifically in one specific spot.

Geissorhiza aspera

Aristea africana

Wurmbea punctata

Baometra uniflora

There are a couple more I don’t have names for, I’ll see if the geeks can help. This first one is tiny – the flowers are less than half the size of the nail on my little finger. I really should be able to name the second one, but there are quite a few flowers that look like this, so I’m not sure. And the third one is the most exquisite little thing – also tiny.

The first one

Another image of the first one, showing the flame red leaves

The second one

The third one

Finally, two distinctive peas. One is simply known as the Blue Pea, Psoralea aphylla, found in marshy places and along streams, which is exactly where we saw it. The other is prolific at the moment along the top road and very distinctive; I’m pretty sure it is Lotononis of which there are 40 odd fynbos varieties and only two are covered in my book. It isn’t either of those but the tri-foliate leaves and solitary flowers on slender stems are a bit of a giveaway.

Lotononis

Lotononsis

Balmy days and foggy nights

Posted on August 18, 2014 by fynbosblog One comment

We’ve been having exceptionally warm and sunny weather for the time of year. Although we quite often get an early burst of spring in August, this is really warm – 28 degrees or even higher yesterday and we are still in t-shirts today. The combination of warmth and damp in spring often means foggy patches and a favourite sight is the view from the farm on a foggy morning. We had one breathtaking dawn moment as the full moon set behind Paarl mountain and the fog lapped at the foothills. The moon is never as spectacular in a photo, this one was huge and round and dominated the morning sky.

Moon setting over Paarl

The Lobostemon fruticosus has burst into flower. The dull light brings out the best in it; it has a luminous glow. And sometimes the very first rays of sun just catch the flowers so they are lit from within. The colour ranges from pink to pale blue and the small shrubs are covered in a mass of flowers. We have them everywhere. I have tried to transplant them into the garden but even the small ones have a deep deep tap root that I haven’t succeeded in transplanting intact, so they shrivel and die. Never mind, they clearly prefer the mountain.

Lobostemon fructicosus

It quite often happens that I notice something in a particular area and think of it as rare and special only to find out a few days later that it is all over the farm. This pretty yellow shrub is one of those. I initially didn’t recognise it, and then was quite excited to realise when I had a good look at the photos that it was probably another Hermannia, like the ones we saw last week. Rushed to the book, looked up the Hermannias and sure enough it’s Hermannia althaeifolia, quite a common plant in the region and also used extensively in gardens. Not surprising, it’s a lovely thing. The photo in the reference book isn’t very good though, so I went to iSpot for some clarification and checking those images there can be no doubt.

Hermannia althaeifolia

iSpot is the place for geeks when it comes to fynbos. They ask us to post what we see and I don’t do it enough, but if I can’t identify something, there is always a far more knowledgeable person on iSpot who will. This little white flowering bulb for instance, which I posted a couple of blogs ago, has been identified as Ixia. They were not sure which subspecies, and I can’t find it in any of my reference books, but reading into the more detailed description of the Ixia, I can see what they mean.

Ixia

I don’t know what this absolutely charming white Erica is. There are some serious Erica experts on iSpot though, so I shall post it and see what we come up with.

White Erica

A couple of pelargoniums – the first one is not really spectacular as the photo isn’t very good – but it’s one I haven’t posted yet this year. The other is another, pelargonium myrrhifolium varr myrrhifolium, a pelargonium I posted a couple of weeks ago, from a different plant on a different part of the farm.

Pelargonium myrrhifolium varr. myrrhifolium

Pelargonium

A good fire and some snoring wolfhounds

Posted on June 14, 2014 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

We woke up full of good running intentions this morning and the first sound was the pattering rain on the roof. News from Cape Town to the west of us that the rain is pouring down and a look at yr.no (the excellent Norwegian weather service if there is anyone alive who still doesn’t know about it) confirmed our worst fears. If we can’t run, we can at least blog about running.

I spend the hot months of summer thinking how much I like the Cape Winter – yes it rains but it never, in my imagination at least, gets truly cold. And it is true that here on the mountain the temperature very rarely slips below 5 degrees. This was a rare week. It was freezing, almost literally, and 4 degrees on Wednesday morning and reminded me exactly why I like living in warm countries. Being the Cape it was a short snap and on Thursday a benign sun smiled on us. Now it’s raining hard but still mild.

Deilighted to be reunited the dogs and I had some splendid runs. I’m travelling too much to keep a proper level of fitness, but even at a plod there is nothing more joyous than time spent on the mountain with the dogs.

The first Erica plukenetii has come into flower and will continue flowering all over the farm from now until December. They come in many colours and well post lots of them. I love the way the evening sun gleams on the clustered pink tubes.

Erica plukenetii

The Protea nerifolia is one of the most magnificent shrubs on the farm and the bannerhead of The Fynbos Blog. Most commonly seen in pink, sometimes the flowers are cream or white and the soft velvety lushness is irresistible, to me as a photographer and apparently also to the tiny beetles you can see on the petals.

Protea nerifolia

The Oxalis are out now, studding the lands like tiny jewels. I worry when it rains for days on end – the flowers only open in the sunlight, so how can they survive without it? But survive they do. There are dozens of varieties, these three are found everywhere on the farm. Oxalis veriscolor is particularly exquisite with it’s shrublike form and tiny pink edged white flowers.

Oxalis veriscolor

Oxalis purpurea in pale lilac

Oxalis purpurea in bright pink

Yellow daisy like flowers can be hard to identify and I was happy to see this Haplocapha lanata again. When I started the blog it was one of the first that I did manage to name and if you look closely at this photo you can just see the pink edges on the petals that indicate the distinguishing red undersides.

Haplocapha lanata

The water is pouring down the rivers and streams and our waterfall is back to its full glory.

This tiny flower grows on a shrub that looks like Chaenostoma hispidum or Sutera hispida (both the same, a victim of renaming again). We are right on the edge of its territory but it does look right.

Chaenostoma hispidum

Seamus absolutely loves this cooler weather. He is exceptionally fit and well at the moment and bounds all over the farm with us. Here he is in one of his favourite poses, he’s just had a drink and a lie down in Fox Pan and now he’s letting the breeze ruffle through his coat as he looks out over the mountains and waits for me to catch up.

Seamus enjoying a sunny afternoon

One last flower that I have been meaning to post. It flowers very briefly and I missed it last year although we have lots of these pretty green shrubs on the farm. I caught one in the act a few weeks ago. The common name is wild asparagus, Asparagus rubicundus.

Asaparagus rubicundus

Jemima Chew and the francolin

Posted on June 2, 2014 by fynbosblog One comment

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog and I think I may be struggling with a little writer’s block. There has been so much travel, work, report writing, negotiating still more work, over the last few weeks, to say nothing of trying to keep a semblance of normal life, that the runs and the flowers have faded to the background. Back on a plane now, headed to Nairobi, not a destination that’s particularly attractive at the moment, Time to write a blog. The lovely thing about this time of year is that every day is so different.

Unlike most of the continent we do have four proper seasons and now we are headed from autumn to winter. I’ve talked before about how our autumn is more like spring in the Irish world I come from. Here it is the relentless heat that stifles growth and shrivels the landscape. So once the rains fall and the temperature is mild, the landscape becomes green, birds start courting and building nests and though winter is cold and damp, it is also fecund and bears the promise of life to come.

One silly Cape Francolin (a partridge-like bird) decided to build her nest on the shores of the dam, where the undergrowth is thick and a willow tree grows overhead. Jemima Chew found her, of course, and she flew into the willow tree and refused to budge; presumably reluctant to leave her eggs (it is a little too early for chicks). Jemima spent the entire day barking at her, running around the willow tree, ferreting in the damp waters and generally causing havoc. The bird still didn’t budge. At one point, when Peter and I went to inspect the cause of all this commotion, Jemima Chew had actually managed to climb onto the lower branches of this willow tree, defying both gravity and the limitations of her portly figure. I had left my iphone in the house so we have no evidence of this unlikely event. Luckily night brought the irresistible temptations of a warm fire and a good dinner and the by next morning the francolin had learned some sense and was gone. Birds are not stupid.

While we were there we saw the first arum lilies of the season. These lovely lilies are indigenous here and will grow all winter long anywhere damp, the wetter the better. Roadside verges are covered in them, a joy to behold. The gleaming whiteness is quite hard to photograph, but these are the first.

The first Aurm Lily of the year

Another fynbos bulb that likes damp places is Chasmanthe floribunda. I grew up knowing this as Montbrecia – it grows wild in the hedgerows of Ireland (a damp, mild climate if ever there was one). Oddly in Ireland it also flowers in May and June, justifying my claim that the Cape autumn is a kind of spring. Botannical names get changed to bring more global consistency and perhaps this is one that has been changed. When I look up Montbrecia it shows up as Crocosmia and looks exactly the same, so I’m a bit confused. Not an uncommon feeling when it comes to naming fynbos with pinpoint accuracy.

Chasmanthe floribunda, or Montbrecia or Crocosmia

There is a particular light we see here in winter that charms me most of all. It happens when the sun is setting in the West/North West and a mist comes off the river down in the Paarl valley on a perfectly still evening. At a certain moment the setting sunlight catches the mist and turns the whole valley into gold. I only ever see it once or twice a year and it is enthralling. Last week we had such an evening and this photo is taken from the balcony. Hard to catch the magical glimmering golden light in a photograph, yet there is something of it captured here.

A golden evening

The next morning greeted us with cool cloudy weather pierced by the odd shaft of sunlight and a double rainbow.

As we ran up the mountain we saw the first wild rosemary – Eriocephalus africanus. This stunning herb grows commonly all over the farm and soon the air will be scented with its flowering. The tiny while flowers are a delight to behold and we’ll see many more of them in the months to come.

Eriocephalus africanus, wild african rosemary

The Phylica is now in full flower everywhere and I noticed that the tiny flower heads have opened, each one a little flower in its own right. So pretty.

Phylica eriocoides

Torrid days and windy nights on the mountain

Posted on April 17, 2014 by fynbosblog 2 comments

The Western Cape sat under a torrid heatwave last week and over the weekend. I watched the new plants in the garden anxiously, hoping they wouldn’t give up the ghost on us but with plenty of watering they seem to have survived the worst. It suddenly cooled on Monday, still sunny but a good 10 degrees cooler – 28 is very different from 38. And cool and damp in the evening, enough to need a sweater. With the cooler weather came the wind, howling and screaming around the mountain, stronger at night, trying to get the roof off, blow the trees down and blasting the autumn leaves off the trees.

Yesterday I had an early start dropping Peter to the airport, so I couldn’t run and by the time I got home in the evening after a day of meetings and errands I’d taken a pill for an incoming migraine, which also precludes running. So the dogs and I went walking instead. The wind howled around us, but the mountain was beautiful, glorious even, with the sun setting in the western sky. I sometimes wonder why I don’t take crisper photos, and last night was a good reminder of the answer to that. I defy anyone to take a perfectly crisp photo when the subject is leaping, dancing or even merely quivering in the wind. Still, with a lot of patience we captured a few flowers in between the gusts. This time of year is exciting with lots of new growth and even flowering bulbs starting to push their way above the ground. Some of the flowers we won’t see until August are already sending forth their shoots and it’s fun to recognize them as old friends.

An old friend from one of my earliest blogs is this, very common, plant. Last year I incorrectly identified it as a Crassula but I know better now. There is a resemblance to the Metalasia family, in part because of the rolled leaves with tufts of smaller leaves in the axis. But the the flowers don’t fit. Another for the unidentified file though it is irritating when the species is so common.

Unidentified and very common

The same flower in close up – impossible to get a perfect shot in the howling wind

The evening light in the olive groves was stunning

Even at the end of the summer there is still plenty of water coming down the fall

The wind took out our wifi connection, so this is written and sent in an early morning hurry from Cape Town International. We are off to the bush for Easter.

Fire on the Mountain

Posted on October 26, 2013 by fynbosblog Leave a comment

In South Africa people rise early, so a call at 7 am is not necessarily worrying. Peters kids get up early to avoid the Johannesburg traffic and often call at that time for a chat. Anything earlier than that signals trouble, so when the phone started forth with ‘Gangnam Style’ (yes, that really is my ringtone) at 6.15 on Saturday morning I jumped out of bed to get it, knowing the news wasnt going to be good.

It was our neighbour and she was clearly concerned. A fire on the mountain, right by their house. We leaped into action – Peter quickly got dressed while I equally quickly manned the phone and made him a coffee to take with him. He’d call the local fire marshal, get down there, assess the situation, and they’d decide how much support was needed to get this under control quickly.

We have terrible fires here on the mountains, last year one burned all the way from Franschhoek to the N1, which must be over 20 kilometres. They go far further than that when they are out of control and the wind is high. But we’ve had a very wet winter and the past few days have brought the first southeaster of the season, a howling wind that comes with the dry spring weather and frays all our nerves.

We predicted this fire a few days ago. Another neighbour was burning in his lands and he didn’t seem to have taken care to put out the smoldering embers. “There’s going to be a fire” said Peter on Wednesday evening as we drove down the mountain on our way to dinner. Sure enough….

This was not a particularly dangerous fire. Frightening when it’s close to your house, but with the ground and the undergrowth still cold and wet, it was never going to be the frightening inferno we’d see later in the season. By mid-morning it was under control. Still, a good warning and we are very diligent about clearing potential fuel and firebreaks on the farm. In the season, January and February, we are on high alert.

Fire on a neighbours farm just below us.

Today was altogether calmer. I went for an early run with the dogs and then we had some friends who came to lunch and were very keen to see the flowers. As ever plenty of new sightings emerged. Rather frustratingly I am writing this on a plane (London this time) and have left my books behind. So here are some pictures of new flowers, taken in case they are no longer flowering when I get back and I will do the research when I get home in a few days time and repost with some names.

This beautiful flowering bulb is all over the farm. It must be common but I cannot find it in the books.

Blue flowering bulb

This kind of flower emerges in summer. Lots of fynbos have these short spikey stems covered in leaves and a single flower on the tip. We’ll see lots more and identify as many as we can.