Sense of Place

I was a little startled to be asked by Makhubalo and Lungile Ikaneng of uBuntu Nest to participate in their OneMuntu Storytelling Festival. However, it did not take me long to get over myself and accept. Everyone is doing something new and online these days, so why not me? After having to cancel live performances…

Streetside

This evening we had planned a little celebration of Poetry of Place at uBuntu Nest in Howick. It is not happening, obviously. This is one of the poems I would have read tonight, so am sharing it here instead. I hope you will book for the evening when it does happen. The backstory to this…

An Unruly Story

Writing is a rather random thing. Occasionally, a perfectly formed sentence, a poetic turn of phrase or snippets of intriguing conversation gallop towards one out of the blue. You need to be quick!  Grab a pencil and try, at least, to pin down the tail of the thought as it races by.  Sometimes you can’t…

The Weeks Fly By

The mist rolls in the day resumes the sun peeps out something blooms the damp rises the branch aches the web shivers something breaks the river runs the postman smiles the clouds collect something dies the weeks fly by as we anticipate the one moment an imagined date that might make life worth the wait…

One Woman’s Weeds…

I have been doing a little weeding around my cos lettuce, cavalo nero and mizuna. Lots of what I take out will go into supper and the rest to make weed tea.  As you will know from previous posts, I am a fan of weeds.  Have you read Weeds, Glorious Weeds?  or Wild Greens?  Tried…

Bird

Two weeks ago, a ring-necked dove flew into my window and died.  The imprint of it’s wings and body are still on the glass, along with a couple of feathers.  I moved it under the tree.  Over the weeks I have observed another ring-necked dove right beside it, sometimes just sitting, sometimes flapping it’s wings…

Great Aunts

As little children, we had lots of Great Aunts – some widowed and some never married. Lots of women living without men. Something to do with the war, we thought. They were absolute treasure and added a multitude of experiences to my childhood – especially as we did not have any grandparents.  They clearly had…

This Place is in My Bones

Steampunk poetry evenings are a non-negotiable date in my diary. Last night,  the first Steampunk Poetry book was launched.  This enchanting compilation of local poems, by people we all know, edited by Lara Kirsten, is available at Steampunk for only R100 – hurry while they are hot!  I wrote about these special evenings a while…