A fragile architectural heritage

On our trips into the Western Cape country-side we are often saddened by the decay of some clearly architecturally important but minor buildings in the landscape.

We were equally excited by some of the buildings that were maintained in a traditional style. There were even buildings being restored that to our knowledge had been standing empty and derelict for more than 20 years. To see a double storey, five-bay, flat-roofed Cape Georgian farmhouse being restored, must be one of the most exciting sights in the local landscape. From personal experience I know how difficult it is to get information that can assist a person to restore a traditional building in South Africa.

Some European countries have a rich culture of recording their building styles and methods. These can be used as a good guideline but the fact remains that they often have different building methods, materials and climatic conditions to our own.

In our restoration of Towerwater, we were lucky to have access to some of South Africa’s leading authorities on the subject through our lengthy membership dating back to the mid-1980’s and my chairmanship of the Vernacular Architecture Society of South Africa.

Under their learned guidance we have implemented restoration practices starting more than 30 years ago that has served us well up to now on our three heritage properties. There has been no reason to doubt their knowledge and experience then or now as these buildings can attest.

We have also consulted with local traditional builders and craftsmen who were richly experienced in the methodologies of a bygone era. These inputs were particularly relevant to immediate regional specific traditions.

The purpose for which the buildings were originally built also played an important part in our approach to their restoration. The outbuilding that had formerly been a cottage had been turned into a garage by the time that we acquired the property.  We discovered first-hand recollections of when the building had been used as a cottage by the family. This information was to assist the restoration.

I believe that the unavailability of information on restoration practice for the owners of vernacular buildings is detrimental to the preservation of our built heritage. It is simply not economically viable to employ professionals in the restoration of a modest building. Owners when frustrated through the lack of relevant information are more inclined to demolish entirely and rebuild in contemporary material and technologies.

In the countryside, we see old vernacular buildings disappearing on a weekly basis. It is heart-breaking to see these building erased from the landscape. The cultural built landscape is changing at a rapid pace, and in my opinion, undermining the essence of the rural Cape.

The humble vernacular buildings that James Walton OBE encouraged others to record and study are unfortunately the very ones that are disappearing. The consequence is a great loss to our built architectural heritage.

The question remains, how we can encourage owners to conserve these buildings. The owners cannot always afford to employ the services of professionals. In many cases, it is simply a matter of sympathetic maintenance that is required. My suggestion would be to produce guidelines on maintenance and the restoration of vernacular buildings so as to enable enthusiastic owners of simple cottages and outbuildings to conserve them. Our biggest obstacle in the restoration of Towerwater was the absence of available information and constrained finances. Our passion made up for these deficits. Our approach was to undertake the work on a spare cash, spare time basis. We had the luxury of time on our side, something that all owners do not have. Time allowed us to research and source material as the restoration progressed. Unfortunately one does not always find all the relevant information at the outset of the restoration, but as the work progresses one chances upon contextual and valuable information specific to the project.

After publishing our restoration report, fresh information started finding us. While initially we were searching for the information, years down the line, it is now the information that tends to find us. Surely the legacy of our local heritage contains valuable information and practices that have ensured the survival of these buildings over the last 200 – 300 years. If these tried and tested practices are now found to be outmoded, one would be hard-pressed to justify embarking on practices foreign to this legacy in the absence of the efficacy of those methods over an equivalent length of time in this Cape of storms.

My plea is that if there is anybody out there who is not driven by motives other than a passion for the preservation of our unique built heritage, then they will hopefully respond with a layman’s guideline for the maintenance and restoration of simple Cape buildings. The sharing and bedding down of user-friendly methodologies can only augur well for the future.

Reflections

Today it is exactly two years since my first post on this blog. I started the blog to share the amazing journey of living a truly South African and traditional Cape country lifestyle with friends. I am surprised by the world-wide interest that my posts are getting, but glad that followers enjoy reading the posts as much as I do writing them.

The blog has taught me to look at life differently. It has given me an opportunity to capture a true Cape country lifestyle visually in pictures and words. In my travels through Spain, Italy, the UK and Canada I have experienced amazing cultures and practises. Because I believe in experiencing a country through its unique traditions, food, architecture, gardens and music, I always make sure to gain an understanding of the cultural identity of the people and places I visit.

I respect the country and its people, making sure not to impose my culture, even if that might feel more comfortable. Traveling is supposed to take you out of your comfort zone. One needs to make an effort to experience something new. It is a matter of exploring why some experiences, that are different from what you are used to, but very natural in other cultures, make you feel out of place.

Traveling is like visual poetry. The food, people, architecture, gardens and music are different elements of the same poem.  Although I love the architecture of other countries, I never had the urge to replicate any of it in South Africa or impose it on our Cape country house.  I enjoy Tuscan architecture and its charming colour palettes as much as Spanish country houses. But, they are more beautiful within their own cultural landscape, creating a visual poem that is a joy to read.

Elements of the food and wine culture of other countries that I enjoy, I might occasionally introduce into the meals I prepare at Towerwater. But, I always make sure to celebrate our own food and wine culture in context with our traditional house and garden. They speak of the unique cultural landscape of South Africa and the Western Cape.

I find the introduction of foreign architectural elements to our traditional buildings to be jarring and clumsy, distorting and denying the true tradition of the buildings and the cultural traditions they represent.  Not only do such intrusions sit awkwardly in the landscape, but they also confuse the heritage of these buildings for the average visitor.

I loved the feel of the Limonaia or Lemonary of the Biboli Gardens in Florence, Italy. I stood in awe of this amazing space constructed in 1549. But I would not dream of imposing a lemonary on Towerwater. Although, I think it is so romantic with the citrus in their terracotta pots that can be wheeled indoors when necessary.  This, apart from the reality that we do not have a need to protect our citrus trees in that way, as we enjoy a mild climate with 12 months of sunshine.

I have a vivid memory of overladen citrus trees standing proud in every traditional Cape garden.  With their deep green leaves and vibrant yellow-orange fruit against the bluest blue sky, brightening up the backdrop of white lime washed buildings with their black thatched roofs.

I love traveling, seeing and experiencing new things. But, I love coming home more, where I can climb into the familiar skin of local traditional architecture, food, gardens and furniture that speaks with an authentic voice about my cultural heritage as part of a broader spectrum of cultures, in this amazing country of ours.

I am part of Africa and Africa is part of me. Traveling only makes me realise just how much I love this country, and my cultural heritage within it.

In the words of TS Elliot – ‘We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.’

Happy 2nd Birthday Blog!

Of loss and happiness

We came home to find that all the Valencia oranges had been picked.  In one clean swoop, the thieves did not only take a complete crop of Valencias,  but also a year’s work of feeding and caring; and the ‘sweet-orange’ and ‘three-fruit’  marmalade for this year. After investigating the weakness in the security, we discovered that the agile thieves had entered over conduit-pipes housing the electrical supply cables which cross over the canal.

The solution will be to wrap barbed wire around the conduits, although I do not like the idea because of the unfitting visual impact it will have. The thought of all the precious organic orange peels lying somewhere next to a road is like barbed-wire for my soul. I decided I would rather have the barbed-wire around the conduit-pipes than in my soul, in future.

The early morning was shrouded in mist and the promise of a beautiful day was just beyond the grey. It was the perfect day to finish the last major task of winter, that of composting the garden. While Fungai was carefully spreading the compost in the rosarium to avoid damaging the new growth, I decided to shape the Valencia tree.

As if to make up for its loss of fruit, the whole tree was covered with new growth. After shaping the tree and cutting out the snail damage, I felt better about the tree and the barbed-wire thoughts were replaced by the promise of a new season.

All the daffodils are now open and their sunny yellow faces lifted my spirits. All the peach trees and the almond tree are covered in blossoms and the whole orchard is coming alive. Everywhere there are signs of new growth; from the French tarragon on the ground, to the elderflower above the rosemary.

I sliced the naartjie (tangerine) peel into neat strips, and decided to dry them on the loft in the old fashioned way instead of in the oven. The bright orange-coloured strips are just one more thing to look forward too when preparing summer meals with real traditional Cape ingredients. Maybe next year there will be enough naartjies to make our own Van der Hum liqueur.

The last harvest of peas provided us with the ingredients for a summery salad for lunch on a balmy afternoon.

A slice of traditional milk tart with tea helped dispel lingering negative thoughts of loss while happiness was restored with each bite of the perfectly flaky-crust and soft sweet centre.

Freshly pressed olive oil and lemons

On Sunday morning, the harvest of green peas and yellow lemons brightened up the kitchen. The huge lemons with their beautiful skin just begged to be used. I have to find new uses for lemon skins. Perhaps consider drying them to be used in lemon salt and spicy meat and fish rubs.

The peas are true to their name ‘Green Feast’ and add possibilities of freshness to couscous, salads, soups, risottos and stews.

I could harvest two Cape Naartjies (tangerines) and they are extra big. As if the small tree knows how I have been waiting for them. I want to dry the skins to use them in old traditional Cape dishes calling for dry naartjie peel. I could get some dried naartjie peel at the Salt River market but discovered that they were not organic. I decided to find a Cape Naartjie tree for the Towerwater garden and plant it to harvest organic naartjies so that I can use the peel.

Our friend Susan delivered five litres of freshly pressed olive oil made from olives growing in the Klaas Voogds valley between Robertson and Ashton. I could decant the oil into my collection of five litre olive oil bottles and store them in the cellar along with all the other preserves. Most of the preserves require olive oil, and I need a good stock of fresh olive oil.

I am glad that there is some good olive oil available on our doorstep. It reduces our carbon footprint and allows us to support local producers to ensure a thriving local economy.

South Africa produces some award winning olive oil and we can proudly use this local produce with confidence. With a growing industry, we even have olive oil tasting courses for our local oils. Last year, eight of the top olive oil producers in Italy were embroiled in a scandal where they had sold virgin olive oil as extra virgin.

The Cape produces olive oil that compares well with the best oils that Spain, Italy and Greece can offer, and they have the awards to prove it.

To have freshly pressed olive oil, just makes sense to me and to live in a valley where one is spoilt for choice, is a true luxury.

Breadboards and a Birthing Chair

Wandering into the regular Saturday morning auction at a local antique/ second-hand store, I saw an Oregon pine fold-up camping bed that I liked and I decided to bid on it. The bed came from Craffords Furnishers in Swellendam. Craffords started as Cabinet Makers in 1938. The wood for the bed apparently came from Knysna.

The Birthing Chair

There were several pieces from Craffords dating from the 1938 Craffords Cabinet Makers, like the Oregon pine work bench and kist. I was lucky enough to buy the bed and when a “hall chair” came up and there was no interest, I bought it for a nominal amount. I thought it was a curious piece of furniture, clearly arts and crafts, with the original tag from Craffords still attached.

Remembering Craffords from my school days, it was more a sentimental buy. The tag described it as a hall chair but it was a curious T- shaped chair with what looked like a hinge between the seat and back of the chair. The three legs screwed into the seat. The chair was covered in rough carvings with a three-leaf clover design on the either end of the seat as well as at the top of the back-rest.

When I had a chance, I researched the three legged hall chair with clover designs. I discovered that I had bought a birthing chair circa 1910.

The birthing chair is described as being shaped to assist a woman in the physiological upright posture during childbirth. The birthing chair of this design normally has three legs. The seat supports the bottom of the woman in labour and the slender back is sloped for comfort. The arms of the chair are designed for gripping during child-birth so as to offer extra leverage.

Seat showing hinge

The history of the birthing chair can be traced back to Egypt in 1450BCE, Greece in 200BC and 100 BC in Britain.

The birthing chair concept has apparently been making a comeback since the 1980’s.

The mystery for me is how did a birthing chair end up in Craffords Furnishers in Swellendam?

One of the last items at the auction was a collection of bread/chopping boards that was knocked down to me for R5. I like chopping boards and was very happy to pick these up at that price.

Oregon pine fold-up camping bed circa 1938

Camping bed with 'bulsak'

Now I have a new old set of bread/chopping boards, a camping bed and a birthing chair. Life at Towerwater is ready for some culinary preparations, alfresco relaxation and a conversation piece.

Counting daffodils

We are in August and the valley is showing signs of spring. Orchards are changing from stark monochrome to soft patches of pink and white in the landscape. It always makes my heart skip to see the first promises of life and the realisation that spring is around the corner.

The big Almond tree next to the road on the R317 is an explosion of white in the late afternoon and driving past it I could even smell the memory of its scent as I remember photographing it last year.

It reminds me of a project in Primary School, when we had to make pictures of trees with blossoms. After taking the dark brown crayon and drawing my idea of a tree with lots of branches, I took bits of cotton wool and glued them all over the empty brown branches. The blossoms on my wax crayon tree were white and fluffy. And this is what the white blossoms on this old tree reminds me of, looking white and fluffy in the fading light.

On our arrival home, we were greeted by some bright yellow daffodils next to the cellar window. These are the first daffodils in the garden. Although I love daffodils, they are a luxury that did not fit into the design scheme of an edible garden. The approach to the design of the garden was that every plant should be edible or be usable for something in, and around the house.

When some plant pots became unused in the town garden, I decided to take them to Towerwater and plant different bulbs in them for fun.

I would have loved to have a field of daffodils but for now I bought 20 bulbs of which 15 came up and 13 are flowering.  The luxury of having daffodils is still new, and that explains my counting and monitoring so closely.

I hope they will multiply in time and become pots filled with yellow daffodil pleasure. For now I will enjoy each one as they open and treasure their survival into full bloom.

I love Wordsworth’s poems, and “I wandered lonely as a cloud”, has always been a favourite. Years ago, when I visited the Lake District in England, I had the pleasure of seeing the fields of daffodils described in his poem that he wrote in 1804.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.