Back to the Karoo. Put Brooklyn on pause, wake up in the Vleihuisie, smell fresh coffee perking, sit outside on the patio to eat the last of the fresh rolls we brought from Cape Town with my mother's apricot jam, watch the white horse and its boss arrive to work the lucerne field where the storks are already patrolling.
We made a quick stop at the farmhouse to see if we could find some lamb for supper. Of course we could. Hanna was in the kitchen, making melktert for some Dutch visitors at a nearby farm. The Aga was hot and the tarts were at the rolled-out pastry stage. These red roses were in a bowl on the dining room table. Melktert, Aga, red roses. Storybook perfect.
After our now memorable trip into Nieu Bethesda, we decided to go and look at the private airfield Peet had told us about.
Above, the Compassberg watches over the farm.
It was clearly signposted.
The veld around the rough strip was full of flowers. Daisy inside a Karoo bush...
Bulbine abyssinica, so similar to the bulbine in my mom's aloe garden. Beautiful, tall geophytes. Occurring from the western Karoo to tropical Africa.
Moraea polystachya, with its unmistakable 'butterfly' spots on the petals stood slender above the shorter mat of growth, its delicate petals easily ruffled by the light wind sweeping from the hills.
They grew every twenty feet or so, two feet high.
Green parts are poisonous, and can kill grazing stock.
But if moraeas were dresses, they would have been designed by Dior in the late 40's. And I would have liked to have worn them.