eighty years ago my mother was born in the riebeeks. eight years ago i started frequenting the riebeeks - introduced to it by a dear friend. little did i know then that the place that became such a restful haven to me, used to be the farm my mother was familiar with as a youngster. in fact, my grandfather rented one of the landlord's farms a little further down the hill called boshoff.
sunday nights he would gather his family, get the 'trêppie' (horse-drawn carriage) ready and head for the homestead on swawelberg for prayer evenings.
while the landlord was a true-blue farmer, his wife was known as "doctor steyn" of the region and her multiple coloured bottles of magic medicine came to the rescue of many families, my mother included. i was told that the 'doctor' was a true lady and that she was the first person my mother has ever met who painted her nails. she, and her sister, would be unable to close their eyes under prayer - totally transfixed by the colourful fingernails of the 'doctor'.
over the past eight years i've been privileged in being able to gather my own warm and fond memories on this farm - spending weekends in a converted barn next to the homestead. sharing lots of love, laughter and good meals with people very close to me.
my six degrees of separation at times seem to shrink to a mere moment in time . . .
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| the muddy road to swawelberg after a heavy downpour |
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| my room with a view onto the 'hanslammers' home' |
every nook and cranny in ailsa's home is a canvas of impressions
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| feeling a little bit flat, mr barrow? |
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| gardening tools find a comfortable spot on the window sill |
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| essentials - in a kitchen full of surprises |
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| abundance of colour - after the rain |
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| mother nature - the perfect sculptress |
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| stairway to the welcoming verandah |
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| all you need - kept nearby |
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| an interesting combination of greens on one of the doors |
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| she just blends in |
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| tending to some of her newcomers |
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| a fascinating combination of succulents and colour |
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| multi-purpose - chair, table, decor |
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| another newcomer to the garden |
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| the garage and former pottery studio |
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| unlimited view |
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| three's a company |
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| limes straight off the trees in the garden |
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| lunchtime - usually a superb salad |
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| tea-time is an undeniable ritual - and we always get our 'own' cups. the clown is mine |
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| pensive |
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| the riebeeks boast a wonderful variety of birds |
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| peace |
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| all you need in a kitchen |
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| special treasures |
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| books and magazines - always a great find |
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| the heart of the house - kitchen, confession room, 'kuierplek' (place where we gather), |
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| many a culinary delight has started here |
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| if you can name it, you'll find it here |
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| patiently waiting for the next serving |
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| the way to the kitchen |
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| "my" room - a special place |
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| more treasures |
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| playful and fresh |
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| birthday calendar - also including dates of birth |
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| an all-time favourite |
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| fresh from the lime tree |
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| tea, anyone? so many different kinds on offer . . . |
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| every tin tells a story |
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| favourite creations - chickens and sheep |
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| magic happens underneath those lids |
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| getting ready for the farmer's market - soon to be filled with lime marmelade |
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| quirky and fun towel rack |
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| all in good measure |
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| metal gekko adds some fun |
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| friendship knows no timelines |
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| let me tell you about the horses . . . |
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| favourite books - and of course one by neil munro |
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| pudding in the making |
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| a keepsake from harrod's |
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| back-up plan for power failures |
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| a place to rest |
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| marking on the wall, showing how the children grew over time |
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| yet somehow the keys always go missing . . . |
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| the end |
