Patterns

From as far back as I can remember, I have been drawn to patterns. The reassurance in the repetition of a design. A sequence that keeps repeating itself is somehow comforting – unbroken, ‘safe’. The familiar track laid down like a visual mantra, creating a sense of calm through the frenetic and ever changing busyness of life.

I was one of those children who shrunk away from too much sensory stimulation , it was overwhelming and confusing for me. I preferred a quiet and familiar environment in which to daydream and explore my creative nature.

Of course as one grows up, the busy responsibility of adulthood shapes you and one learns to cope with the stresses of everyday life. Becoming a parent adds a whole new dimension to the toughening up process, whether you like it or not.

I still like patterns though.

When choosing fabrics for my ‘Nyoni art’ range of bags , fabric buckets and cushion covers, I inevitably choose our South African ‘Shwe shwe’ cotton prints. The designs are repetitive – which I like, and the colors have now been extended . From the traditional blue, red and brown shades, one can now choose from luscious pinks, lime greens, vibrant turquoises and sunshine yellows to name but a few. Something for everyone.

Nyoni Shwe shwe buckets and bags at a Christmas market

Whilst working on my ‘Nyoni’ range in preparation for a Christmas market these past few weeks, I have been thinking about the ‘patterns’ in my life. Not just the visual and physical patterns that I can see and touch, but also the deep rooted patterns that have become embedded in my life. Patterns that have perhaps been passed down through generations. Habits, personality traits and also choices. Choices so ingrained by the implicit bias of genetics, cultural heritage and experience, that they have become a subconscious automation.

Ingrained patterns of behavior that have influenced not only the way I think and behave, but also important life choices that I make. Choosing a potential life partner for example. What starts out as feeling right for me has often been the habit of choosing what has become familiar to me, not necessarily right for me. So the old patterns have been repeated, subconsciously even, until eventually of course the relationship does not/ cannot work, and I am left wondering why I am alone and heart broken once again.

Sometimes though, just sometimes, if you are lucky, you may chance to turn your head just a few degrees, and out of the corner of your eye someone has attracted your attention in their gentle and unassuming way. Here quite suddenly is a new pattern that intrigues and beckons. A new choice, a new chance at something better.

You are surprised and delighted and amazed, for here is a pattern that is familiar in a new way. This time however the familiarity is because there is a parallel thread in values, beliefs, interests and in depth. A familiar rhythm, one that is harmonious and in tune with yours. A synchronicity that flows naturally because it is a good fit.

And so I am learning that patterns can be changed. That thinking in a new way can open doors into wonderful new chapters, and if these are only the beginning, I cannot wait to fall into the rest of the story…

“Most of your healing journey will be about unlearning the patterns of self-protection that once kept you safe” – Vironika Tugaleva

Cloudy skies and happy surprises

Finally the clouds have come to stay awhile and have blessed us with abundant rain. The glorious sound of thunder and lightning once again and downpours through the night.

Making my way up the slippery path I breathed in the heavenly damp smell of the earth. The air thick with a steamy humidity as the sun gently warmed the rain soaked ground. Even though the green is still to come, the change is immediately apparent, there is a sigh of relief in the breeze. The birds have suddenly come to life with a renewed and frenetic energy and a flurry of song.

It was a happy run.

Making my way down the last steep slope a flash of brilliant coral red caught my eye, and I wondered off the path to investigate. ‘Erythrinia zeyheri’ is a subshrub that grows no more than 60cm tall and occurs naturally in the higher grasslands of Southern Africa and also in Lesothto.

Commonly called the ‘plough breaker’ or ‘ploegbreker’ in Afrikaans, because of it’s extensive and tough underground root system. The flowers closely resemble those of its cousin the common corral tree – Erythrinia lysistemon.

The leaves are covered in prickly spines, probably to deter grazers. In Winter the leaves and stems die down completely, disappearing, and eventually they make their appearance again in late Spring with their bold and striking display. The roots are used as an asthma treatment in traditional medicine.

Just when I think I know the mountain quite well it surprises me with something new.

‘Grewia occidentalis’, (also known as the ‘cross berry’ shrub – due to it’s distinctive four lobed fruits, and also the ‘donkey berry’ – I have no idea why) – is a pretty and hardy shrub. In cultivation it can easily reach 3 meters and is considered a small tree, here in the veld though it tends to be a small scrambling shrub, hugging the ground. This attractive shrub flowers profusely from October through Summer and has pretty lilac pink flowers.

It is quite a common little shrub and I always look forward to seeing it flowering.

The four lobed fruits or berries

I was however pleasantly surprised to see a white flowering Grewia alongside the path as I was nearing the end of my run. I clicked away happily taking photographs of my new find. As I turned to go again, I looked up to the right and lo and behold, there was an entire bank covered in white cross berry bushes that I had not noticed before.

Once home I scoured the net trying to find out more about the colour variations of this shrub. Apparently white is quite a rare find!

Still the mountain continues to surprise and delight…

Gazanias and gifts

“The world isn’t just the way it is. It is how we understand it, and in understanding something, we bring something to it. Doesn’t that make life a story?” – Yann Martel

I watched a YouTube clip of Jordan Peterson the other day. In it he explains that all things are essentially ‘matter’, but, he goes on to explain that it is ‘how’ they matter that makes them real to us. The ‘how’ and the ‘why’ gives meaning to them and makes them a part of our story, our history. It is how we understand that matters and brings ‘matter’ to life.

I received a rather special and surprising gift a few days ago. Actually, it was a collection of gifts – as well as a pretty potted Gazania. Each of the gifts, as well as the Gazania, had been carefully and meaningfully selected. Some items, unless one knew the story behind the selection, would seem ordinary enough to any one else. Yet, especially for me, each gift had been chosen or exquisitely crafted by hand, with the utmost care and attention to detail. Each had played a part in my ‘story’ and were items that had appeared in my blog posts over the months, right down to the yellow potted Gazania.

There was so much more being offered here than just the physical gift. This was the gift of deep attention. A gift that said ” I see you”.

And so, in honoring the thread of the gifts in this story, I have decided to use the Gazania as a design for my Nyoni art range. I spent part of the morning happily drawing my ‘daisy in the dust’. This I will trace onto a transfer which will be used to screen print many daisy’s onto our South African cotton Shwe shwe fabric. These will then be but cut and sewn into cosmetic bags.. The result of that will have to be blogged about in a second installment of this story.

A tribute to a deeply thoughtful gift, a “thank you, I see you too”.

Paths

Mountain biking paths are a pleasure to run on. Their routes have been carefully selected, vegetation and sometimes rocks have had to be manually cleared – which takes an enormous amount of time and effort. Maintaining these trails and paths also requires dedication, and the task usually falls on a devoted few stalwarts who have sacrificed their time and own cost to build and maintain the lovely trails that our little mountain has to offer.

There is an incredibly steep section of the trail that cuts through a forested slope. The original path was beautifully and thoughtfully planned and laid out, with bridges built over rocky drop offs and over mountain streams.

One year the rather large herd of Brahman cattle that had been grazing on the mountain at the time, decided that this particularly difficult and supposedly inaccessible terrain was the perfect spot for a bovine hangout. In a short space of time they managed to break a large number of the young trees and shrubs as well as trample the trail to pieces!

I have been using that section again – I had avoided it for quite a while as it was so wrecked. The irony of it is that now it is easier to follow the path formed by the cattle on their reckless rampage – and not the semi-destroyed original mountain biking and running path.

So it is on my trail runs this week that I have been thinking about the metaphorical paths in our lives. How our carefully constructed and bounded worlds can be shattered and changed in an instant. From the annoyance of things not going our way, to the real and more serious heart breaks and life changing catastrophes and tragedies.

A new path is then forged, whether we like it or not, just as the trajectory of life can be changed in a split second. We learn to use this new path, we have no choice. As we grow and slowly heal from the struggles and storms that life throws at us, the ever changing path surprises us by becoming an ally.

A route we need to take as it leads us from one chapter to another, in the ever changing narrative of life.

Reflections

As I make my way once again up my beloved mountain path earlier this week, my eyes are caught by the vibrant colors of the first Spring veld flowers as they pop up faithfully through the dry grass. Bright yellow Hypericum, the hardy and plentiful Pentinisia prunalloids with their pretty verbena-like blue and purple flower heads. Hypoxis hemerocallidea (African potato plant), their lovely sunny star shaped flowers the purest yellow one could ever come across. Their fresh green sword like leaves such a contrast against the brittle dry veld grass.

Pentinisia prunelloids

These are all highly medicinal plants, and I wonder at that happenstance – that the first Spring flowers to emerge would all be healing ones.

Hypoxis hemerocallidea

When I first started running on the mountain, it was purely for the sake of therapy and exercise in the fresh country air. I soon however found myself paying closer attention to my surroundings. I began to take notice and learn about the beautiful natural treasures the mountain so generously offered. From the daintiest fragile veld flower – often only lasting a day, to the majestic awe of a giant cabbage tree which is probably as old as the mountain, bigger than any Cussonia I have ever come across. I discovered new paths, views and vistas, Mountain reed buck, animal tracks and birds which I would look up and try to identify.

I thought I was learning about and taking inventory of what the mountain had to offer. I was doing more than that – I was taking inventory of myself.

In observing and writing about my experiences, I am going through the process of capturing all my discordant and incomplete thoughts. I am forced to slow down, and through careful consideration, create something meaningful, encapsulating the essential elements.

In discovering the mountain and its offerings I have been discovering myself. From the deepest loneliest valleys to the highest exhilarating highs of my personal life. In this simple act of observation and journaling, I can tether myself to the page.

Storms, tribulations and Mock orange

This was no ordinary storm. Our little town had experienced severe storms before, but I could not remember one like this. The wind had a new sound, ominous and forboding. The pitch was higher and created an eerie inescapable tension.

We were all huddled inside, my three children and I, listening, waiting. The rain and hail arrived next, out of nowhere. Driven in a torrential and violent explosion of noise and fury. All the while the wind kept screaming, egging it on.

Somewhere in between the chaos we remembered Bunsel, our pet rabbit who was still inside her hutch outside. Jaclyn my eldest, with a shriek of guilt rushed outside and we all followed to save our precious bunny. Out on the veranda the hail was building up into ‘snow piles’, and more kept coming as rapidly as spit-fire.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the garden in front of us and we all gasped at the same time. branches were lying everywhere! Another flash and someone exclaimed, “it’s the whole freaking tree!”. A huge crack of thunder sent us scurrying back inside with our rescued Bunsel tucked under one arm.

No one was brave enough to venture outside after that. We all sat huddled together in my bedroom upstairs with the shivering Bunsel. By now most of the cats had joined in the huddle too, there was nothing to do but wait for it to end.

The next morning it had ended as most storms do, with a spent out and exhausted silence. We walked around outside in dazed disbelief. Only realizing then just how bad it had actually been.

What looked like half of the old Cedar tree had come down. In the process taking with it other trees, shrubs, a water feature, concrete pots, two telephone poles, and one poor Hadeda ibis. The Hadeda had become trapped by a branch that had fallen and was now pinning it down by it’s wing. We managed to lift the branch and free the poor thing who waddled off to join his or her mate, who had been waiting faithfully and anxiously near by.

There are two ways that people generally react to stress. They either become super efficient and capable, stepping into leadership, delegating and taking care of the situation. Or, their brain quite literally switches off. I am of the latter. My brain turns to putty and I find it difficult to string coherent thoughts together, never mind speak actual sensible sentences. I go into a sort of dazed zombie mode.

Zombie mode or not, there were now enormous tasks ahead. No one is going to come and stay at a guest house that looks as if hurricane Katrina just passed through for a warm up. So the many phone calls were made. The irritating process of trying to get hold of our significantly less than efficient telephone service provider just to come and asses the damage, never mind repair it, was a nightmare. I had no internet – as that was dependent on the phone line. I now know what a ‘dongle’ is – I did not then.

It was over a weekend, by the time Monday arrived I had a string of double bookings to sort out. Guests had booked online and I had no way of knowing, I was taking bookings by phone and manually putting them into my calendar. The problem with disasters is that they seldom arrive alone. They invite friends, at least two, just for fun! Just a week before the storm hit, someone had side swiped my vehicle. On top of that the main geyser to the house section of the guest house had burst a few days before, right at the tip top of the double storied roof. I found myself resorting to plans A,B,C,D, and even E!

The telephone/internet problem aged me by ten years I’m sure. The phoning, pleading and eventually begging would be repeated almost daily until a whole two months later the new poles were installed! It took a month for the geyser claim to be approved, and another month for the solar geyser company to drive out to Dundee to install it! Eventually my car was booked and repaired, yes – two months later.

Our beautiful big Cedar tree had provided quite allot of shade and privacy. Now we were left with a gaping openness once all the branched and mess had been cleared up. Frankly it was depressing. Soldiering on however, the water feature was fixed, pots were replaced, and I began to think of new shrubs and small trees to fill the gap.

Pouring through my books on indigenous trees and shrubs, I began to feel more optimistic about the bare spot in the garden. I could plant it up with my own indigenous favorites, a chance for change. Eventually three Buddlej’s were planted – two auriculate’s and one salviifolia. These are commonly know as butterfly bushes – and for good reason. The auriculata flowers in july, providing a heady sweet honey scented perfume that fills the entire garden. The salviifolia, which has similar flowers but sage like leaves, starts a month later and into Spring. It has just started now and is heavenly, especially in the evenings. A small copse of three River indigo shrubs was also planted. Another of my favorite indigenous shrubs. These flowered beautifully during the Summer and the growth was very impressive for one season.

The exotic Mock ornge shrub, allthough quite damaged, we decided to leave in place and allow to recover. It is a nice neat evergreen shrub or small tree, also with scented creamy flowers in spring. Ours had never really flowered much before but it did have nice attractive glossy leaves and once trimmed back I thought it would shape up nicely again.

About a month after the storm our humble little mock ornage decided to surprise us. It suddenly began to flower as if there was no tomorrow, putting on a show stopping display with it’s creamy white flowers, exploding into life.

This to me although surprising – as it was late Summer already, seemed so apt. Such a beautiful metaphor for regrowth, vigor and second chances! I look at the once damaged piece of the garden and cannot believe how it has changed in such a short space of time. It is fast becoming my favorite part by far!

Buddleja salviifolia flowering now

Storms, tribulations and Mock orange

This was no ordinary storm. Our little town had experienced severe storms before, but I could not remember one like this. The wind had a new sound, ominous and forboding. The pitch was higher and created an eerie inescapable tension.

We were all huddled inside, my three children and I, listening, waiting. The rain and hail arrived next, out of nowhere. Driven in a torrential and violent explosion of noise and fury. All the while the wind kept screaming, egging it on.

Somewhere in between the chaos we remembered Bunsel, our pet rabbit who was still inside her hutch outside. Jaclyn my eldest, with a shriek of guilt rushed outside and we all followed to save our precious bunny. Out on the veranda the hail was building up into ‘snow piles’, and more kept coming as rapidly as spit-fire.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the garden in front of us and we all gasped at the same time. branches were lying everywhere! Another flash and someone exclaimed, “it’s the whole freaking tree!”. A huge crack of thunder sent us scurrying back inside with our rescued Bunsel tucked under one arm.

No one was brave enough to venture outside after that. We all sat huddled together in my bedroom upstairs with the shivering Bunsel. By now most of the cats had joined in the huddle too, there was nothing to do but wait for it to end.

The next morning it had ended as most storms do, with a spent out and exhausted silence. We walked around outside in dazed disbelief. Only realizing then just how bad it had actually been.

What looked like half of the old Cedar tree had come down. In the process taking with it other trees, shrubs, a water feature, concrete pots, two telephone poles, and one poor Hadeda ibis. The Hadeda had become trapped by a branch that had fallen and was now pinning it down by it’s wing. We managed to lift the branch and free the poor thing who waddled off to join his or her mate, who had been waiting faithfully and anxiously near by.

There are two ways that people generally react to stress. They either become super efficient and capable, stepping into leadership, delegating and taking care of the situation. Or, their brain quite literally switches off. I am of the latter. My brain turns to putty and I find it difficult to string coherent thoughts together, never mind speak actual sensible sentences. I go into a sort of dazed zombie mode.

Zombie mode or not, there were now enormous tasks ahead. No one is going to come and stay at a guest house that looks as if hurricane Katrina just passed through for a warm up. So the many phone calls were made. The irritating process of trying to get hold of our significantly less than efficient telephone service provider just to come and asses the damage, never mind repair it, was a nightmare. I had no internet – as that was dependent on the phone line. I now know what a ‘dongle’ is – I did not then.

It was over a weekend, by the time Monday arrived I had a string of double bookings to sort out. Guests had booked online and I had no way of knowing, I was taking bookings by phone and manually putting them into my calendar. The problem with disasters is that they seldom arrive alone. They invite friends, at least two, just for fun! Just a week before the storm hit, someone had side swiped my vehicle. On top of that the main geyser to the house section of the guest house had burst a few days before, right at the tip top of the double storied roof. I found myself resorting to plans A,B,C,D, and even E!

The telephone/internet problem aged me by ten years I’m sure. The phoning, pleading and eventually begging would be repeated almost daily until a whole two months later the new poles were installed! It took a month for the geyser claim to be approved, and another month for the solar geyser company to drive out to Dundee to install it! Eventually my car was booked and repaired, yes – two months later.

Our beautiful big Cedar tree had provided quite allot of shade and privacy. Now we were left with a gaping openness once all the branched and mess had been cleared up. Frankly it was depressing. Soldiering on however, the water feature was fixed, pots were replaced, and I began to think of new shrubs and small trees to fill the gap.

Pouring through my books on indigenous trees and shrubs, I began to feel more optimistic about the bare spot in the garden. I could plant it up with my own indigenous favorites, a chance for change. Eventually three Buddlej’s were planted – two auriculate’s and one salviifolia. These are commonly know as butterfly bushes – and for good reason. The auriculata flowers in july, providing a heady sweet honey scented perfume that fills the entire garden. The salviifolia, which has similar flowers but sage like leaves, starts a month later and into Spring. It has just started now and is heavenly, especially in the evenings. A small copse of three River indigo shrubs was also planted. Another of my favorite indigenous shrubs. These flowered beautifully during the Summer and the growth was very impressive for one season.

The exotic Mock ornge shrub, allthough quite damaged, we decided to leave in place and allow to recover. It is a nice neat evergreen shrub or small tree, also with scented creamy flowers in spring. Ours had never really flowered much before but it did have nice attractive glossy leaves and once trimmed back I thought it would shape up nicely again.

About a month after the storm our humble little mock ornage decided to surprise us. It suddenly began to flower as if there was no tomorrow, putting on a show stopping display with it’s creamy white flowers, exploding into life.

This to me although surprising – as it was late Summer already, seemed so apt. Such a beautiful metaphor for regrowth, vigor and second chances! I look at the once damaged piece of the garden and cannot believe how it has changed in such a short space of time. It is fast becoming my favorite part by far!

Buddleja salviifolia flowering now

Wisdom from ‘the mouths of babes’ and Pentanisia prunelloides

Most of this week has been unusually hot. My Tuesday morning trail trot was no exception. As I made my way up the winding mountain path I was quite relieved to find it breezy on the top after my climb. There are a few brave floral faces beginning to show themselves in anticipation of Spring.

Aha! I was pleased to find the first blue pentanisias peaking through the dry veld. There will be many more as this is quite a common veld wild flower. The sight of them takes me back to a memory of a morning out walking with my son Matthew last Spring.

We had been walking on the mountain searching for ‘treasures’ as we sometimes like to do. I was keen to find the first Spring grass orchids as these are not common and a bit elusive on our mountain. I had just been learning about these mysterious and beautiful little plants and I had developed a kind of ‘orchid fever’ in my hopes of finding some.

In my enthusiasm and eagerness to find the orchids I was a little less enamored by the other more common veld flowers that day. The lilacy blue Pentanisias were everywhere and I had become so accustomed to seeing them that I had in fact stopped seeing them. I did not even know what they were called.

My son looked at me at one point during our walk and said “Mom, why don’t you like these pretty blue ones?” He had noticed that I had been completely overlooking them in my search for the Orchids. I answered that it was because there were so many of them and they were everywhere. He looked at me with a scowling disapproving face and promptly told me off for thinking like that! He was right! I have never forgotten those nuggets of wisdom from my then ten year old son.

Pentanisia prunelloides

So this year I have been eagerly awaiting the blooming of the Pentanisias! Now I know them by name and I have done a little reading up about them to share.

Pentinisia prunelloides or ‘wild verbena’ is widespread in Southern Africa. it is used extensively in traditional medicine and is a veritable ‘cure all’ for a wide range of ailments. The Zulu name for it is ‘olamlilo’ which translated means – ‘that which puts out the fire’. In Afrikaans it is the ‘sooibrand bossie’ meaning – ‘heart burn shrublet’. It is an attractive plant in the veld or garden flowering from August to January. It is also a favorite source of nectar for many butterflies. It has a large root system which allows it to survive veld fires and trampling by livestock. According to SANBI PlantZAfrica – the Pentinisia does not enjoy having it’s roots disturbed, but can easily be propagated from cuttings in Spring and Summer.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑