This is an amazing city, that on an ordinary Friday I can stroll down Southbank for a quiet coffee and ‘me’ time, then attend a morning concert (Different Perspective)
and immediately thereafter go to the NGV (National Gallery of Victoria), recognised as a world class gallery filled with stunning works. To say nothing about the wonderful water wall which is an attraction in itself
On this occasion Jackie and I went to browse the Triennial exhibition.
Which was an adventure into a fantasy land that had us lost and amused and bemused for several hours
until the lure of a late lunch (very late) was too strong to resist.
So we ambled down to the river and sat and munched and marvelled at our
Crazy, Bizarre, Appealing, Enchanting:
Yayoi Kusama – not sure why, but we had fun
Dutch are collective, We Make Carpets
was AMAZING, pool noodles, washing sponges, felt strips
Random, crazy, quirky,
Hahan (I think) Javanese
We loved this giant carpet,
with mirrored ceiling
and people enjoying ‘the countryside’
Alexandra Kehayoglou (Argentina based)
Someone buys them,
Works of art in their own way
Guo Pei (Chinese Born)
Intriguing – Ron Mueck
And one of the best parts:
Everywhere people engaged, absorbed, participating.
There’s more to The Bush than the big five, or even the little five, or the birds, or the snakes.
The Bush is about the smell, the sound,the Feel.
In this instance, the wind, the rain.
First fierce and dominating so that speech is pointless as words are carried away with the hustle of the storm. Water cascading down, flooding every corner of the land and disappearing quickly into ground parched and thirsty to drink.
And then, spent, the heavens seem to rest and the rain falls gently, so gently my clothes don’t get wet yet I can see the drops still falling on the water hole.
On this day, most holy day of Good Friday it seems appropriate that the sky is black and angry and the storm rages down on us.
And it seems also appropriate that as I turn to look to my right, I see the light through the clouds, not yet shining, but with the look of a promise of what is to come; sun and renewed growth.
And the rainbow to remind me, on this holy day, most holy day of Good Friday; not of our covenant with Him, but His with us.
“When I bring clouds over the earth, and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and every living creature—every mortal being—so that the waters will never again become a flood to destroy every mortal being.” (Gen 9)
A day of rambling out and about in Cape Town. Sundays are busy days on the glorious Cape Town roads so that driving alone, as I was, it was difficult to stop and take photos that do this magnificent city justice. You will just have to visit and see for yourself – this is just a ‘toe in the water’ so to speak
Never noticed this before 😳
Steenberg winery where my lovely cousin’s equally lovely daughter recently married is the first farm (1682) developed in the Cape. So beautiful.
All good things…..
Following the old adage my mother taught me; always leave the table wanting more.
I did a short ride today, almost too short. But then again not.
It is a grey day today
The clouds blanket the sky so the mountains look somber, the grass ‘quiet’, sounds muted, birds more still, butterflies absent.
Our ride is appropriate.
Inland, along farm roads, between fields where sheep have their heads down, barely visible above the grass, where cattle lie or graze dulled by the absence of sun on their flanks.
We have new horses. Me on Willow (why are mine so large and my legs so short 😩), Julia on Princess and Randal on Whiplash. Different saddle too.
A time to test my body, just how well has it stood up, can I trot, canter? We shall see.
We warm up walking easily, Willow with a little more pace than Luke that makes for a more comfortable walk. Past springbok, dark and light, young ones too, mixing with hundreds of Guinea fowl.
We trot and all is well. We canter and I debate whether the desire to canter outweighs the pain in the back ( strange that, not the but 😂).
I hear my mother; leave something on the table. Quit while you ahead!
So we trot and walk for a few hours leaving cantering as a memory and a hope for future times.
We pass through groves of gum trees (go figure 😜) which on this gray day make sounds that mimic the sea when it’s grumpy as the wind moves through them.
Through a forest path so dark no photos came out and where we startle a duiker (makes a change from them startling us👏)
I watch a Bataleur roll above us, powerful in his world. Keeping pace with our trotting, rolling , dipping, disappearing.
A car stops to let us pass and I see a little girl, dummy in her mouth, on her fathers lap, to get a better view of us through the open window – eyes like saucers. Fascinated? Scared? Who knows, perhaps a seed is sown to follow in our footsteps one day
A special way to end 5 days of riding through some of the most exquisite scenery surely God ever created.
I went for a walk today, to use different muscles after so many hours in the saddle.
Joining me was my delightful young German companion, a volunteer at the stables, the two resident dogs and a ginger cat!!!😻
We set off on a trail marked ‘Fynbos’ with no idea where it lead nor how long it would be. It took us almost two hours and our remarkable cat walked with us the entire way!!!
The dog’s of course ran back and forth and in and out and up and down exhausting us just watching and we took our weary bodies up through beautiful leucadendron forests – taller by far than we.
We passed a dam used usually for swimming and kayaking which sadly was empty, another one which delighted the dogs; beehives, protea fields, and grasses with strange scents.
Everywhere again we saw butterflies – such a good omen in these times.
Different continent, different ‘friends’ the same unity of spirit as we take a walk
We had a comfortable 5 hour day today, stopping in beautiful Hermanus for a delicious lunch. The weather was a glorious mid 20’s with blue skies and the views along the bay spectacular. It was a little difficult to capture the beauty as we travelled along, so use your imagination as you gaze at the photographs.
We arrived here safe and sound and in fact I felt so strong I went for a two and a half hour walk in this stunning reserve! No sign of stiffness or discomfort at all.
Did I mention that my very kind cousins drove me here?🚗
I have not yet seen a horse, let alone mounted one 😂🐎
I walked for almost 3 hours, silently absorbing the world, there were no birds, no people, no insects; no sounds except the breeze, my breathing and my feet on the path.
Life suspended between being present in the now and in another place – heaven? Not sure what the other place is/was except that it was marked by a sense of total isolation. Lovely in it’s silent vistas.
As the light began to change I knew I had to turn back.
A solitary sunbird flashed by and there was life again
The call of baboons across the valley, invisible but very present got my adrenalin going and my feet moving briskly towards the luxury of my temporary home, Farm 215.
Such a perfect day, I could turn back now; avoid the pain in the you know what, that is inevitable if I ride tomorrow; and still feel like I had seen heaven for a moment
When the weather is kind to us, Flemington is a joy.
And without the crowds (120 000+)that assemble for the ‘big races’ it has a charm that makes a day at the races a treat to be savoured.
Note the Shergar Green
Dressed in our finery, we drive through the gates like royalty, being waved through because we have all the ‘right’ stickers; a privilege bestowed upon members at this exclusive racing club. That Kate has a horse racing today is an added bonus.
We walk along the path marked with every Melbourne Cup winner and year beginning with the first race run here in 1861!!!!! This in itself was fascinating, and never possible on the big race days because there are so many people there. Today, though, we had the walk to ourselves and could read at our leisure, Makybe Diva (2003, 2004, 2005), Zulu (1881), Russia (1946). I wonder at horses’ names; like “Neville left me” – does the horse care I ask myself.
The roses are no longer out and still the grounds are beautiful, groomed and nurtured with such loving care, they could almost be horses.
Because these horses are treated like Royalty.
They are so loved and nurtured and cared for that I wonder if those who say this is a cruel sport have ever been to the stables, or been involved with horses in any way. Have they ever seen how the strappers, and jockeys and trainers and owners Know their animals. Every sign, quirk, like, dislike and know instantly if the horse is unwell or unhappy.
And we move into the members rooms : food, drink, elegant (and not so elegant) people, banks of TVs with races being televised from all over the country, Flemington is not enough, there is Randwick and Adelaide and Brisbane and Bendigo and and….
Heads down pouring over form books, so many seem to know exactly what they are doing.
Do I know what I am doing; of course not.
Does that spoil the day for me; of course not.
I people watch, and eavesdrop and love every minute of it.
And after they have poured over the form, they place their bets (or not, depending on what the form ‘tells’ them. And I watch them reap the rewards of this study. Sometimes handsome, sometimes lean. And then I discover that they chose their horses because today they were picking ‘French names’ or ‘colours’ or ‘countries’ and I suppose that too, is a ‘form’. With equal chance of success 🙂 🙂
Race 3: That’s ‘our race’ and now even I look at the form book and open my wallet. It is so exciting to go into the mounting yard, hear the trainer and jockey and owners talk strategy;
the track is a 2 (a 2? what’s that mean – good. Good But hard. There’s a But to Good? Apparently so)
stick to the inside;
swing out; hold back; let go.
Everyone listens intently nodding; me I listen, but of course I cannot nod – what do I know 🙂 🙂
It is so exciting to have a vested interest in the race – even if ‘by proxy’. But while Tavi Bay won at The Oaks, today is not her day.
We gather in the owners lounge, eat our sandwiches and drink our champagne as the race is rerun on the banks of TV, not once, twice, no about twenty times. And everyone watches it – again and again.
Are they hoping the result may change if they watch often enough; studying the form; seeking how they could have run it differently, or dreaming of what could have been? The post mortem continues; the track was too hard; it didn’t give everyone equal opportunity; why didn’t they water it; if we hand’t run last week….
The views are amazing, the skyline stunning, the staff courteous, the food good, the horses beautiful and the results always unpredictable.
Thank you Kate for the such a special Day at the Races.