Traditional Soetkoekies with red bole (rooi bolus)

A lot of earlier recipes contain ingredients that are no longer readily available. The same goes for “outydse soetkoekie met rooi bolus” or traditional spicy cookies with red bole. A direct translation of the name of the cookies to sweet cookies from the Afrikaans soetkoekies is also not correct. The cookies in question are more spicy than sweet. 

When we started exploring the recipes for “outydse soetkoekies”, we found several variations of the recipe. Some had red bole (an iron oxide), some claret or brandy.

The recipes using the “rooi bolus” interested me because of the ingredient. I remember the two-tone cookies with the almond in the middle, but I cannot recall if the reddish part had a different flavour from the rest of the cookie.

The plain dough on the left and the dough with the "rooi bolus" on the right

It is clear from the earlier recipes that people knew from experience how to incorporate the “rooi bolus”. The recipes merely list it as an ingredient. There are no clear instructions to keep it separate for use in some of the dough that will later be incorporated in the remaining dough to create the familiar red colour patterns.

How the dough with the “rooi bolus” colouring was incorporated into the cookies, is another matter. Some people make random patterns with it. Others make dots on the dough, and some make the two-tone cookies with the almond in the middle.

The dough with the "rooi bolus" 

After reading several discussions online I discovered that I am not the only one struggling to find “rooi bolus”. After trying several chemists and spice stores without luck, I decided to do more research. 

What is “rooi bolus”, and why was it used in the recipe?

On Wikipedia I found the following information:

“Bolus is an earth pigment that occurs in nature in different colours; it can be white, yellow, red or gray. Such earth pigments are composed of clay, alumina and hydrous aluminum silicates.

The red bolus (bolus rubra) was mostly imported from Armenia and was therefore given the designation bolus armenicus, bolus armena, lutum armenum, terra armenum, etc. The coloring component is iron oxide (red ochre, Fe ₂ O ₃), which can be up to 20%. In addition, it mainly contains clay minerals.”

I decided to look at the definition for red bole which seems to be the accepted translation for “rooi bolus”. I found the following definition for bole on Wikipedia:

“Bole is a shade of reddish brown. The color term derives from Latin bōlus (or dirt) and refers to a kind of soft fine clay whose reddish-brown varieties are used as pigments, and as a coating in panel paintings and frames underneath the paint or gold leaf. Under gold leaf, it "warms" the colour, which can otherwise have a greenish shade. However, bole in art is a good deal more red and less brown than the modern shade; it is often called Armenian bole.

Another name for the color bole is terra rosa. The color name terra rosa has been used as a synonym for bole since 1753. The color terra rosa is classified a warm red color. In art, it's classified as being similar to Venetian red, but more pink or salmon. In French, it corresponds to the color châtaigne.

Bole is one of the oldest color names in English. The first recorded use of bole as a color name in English was in the year 1386.”

From the above information, it is clear that red bole or “rooi bolus” is a very old colouring ingredient and basically it was a red clay used for colouring paint pigments and sometimes food. Today it is still used to colour red toffee apples, Essies (another cookie of Cape Malay origin) and “Soetkoekies”.

I thought of using a readily available red food colouring when making the “soetkoekies”. After I ordered the colouring online I happened to come across a few cubes of Reckitt’s blue that I bought some time ago from the General Dealer up the road from us in Woodstock. Coronation Bazaar is one of those rare stores that seems to be caught in a time capsule. A general dealer in the true sense of the word. They stock everything from hardware, books, groceries, etc. Sometimes one will find a product that has not been seen for years.

I decided to take a chance and walk up to the shop. The owner did not even blink when I asked him for red bole or “rooi bolus”. His immediate response was, how much do you need and are you making toffee apples? He handed me the container of red bole that says “Used for Soetkoekies & “Essies”. I had searched everywhere for this elusive ingredient and all the time it was right on our doorstep. 

With my container of red bole in hand, I was ready to bake traditional “Outydse soetkoekies”. After looking at several recipes, I decided to make the recipe in The South African Culinary Tradition by Renata Coetzee, published in 1977.

Soetkoekies

500 g Cake flour
2 ml (half teaspoon) salt
2 ml (half teaspoon) ground cloves
10 ml (2 teaspoons) ground cinnamon
5 ml (1 teaspoon) ground ginger
5 ml (1 teaspoon) bicarbonate of soda
300 g (1,5 cups) sugar
200 g (0,8 cup) butter
5 ml (1 teaspoon) red bolus (ferri-oxide mixture)
1 egg
25 ml (2 tablespoons) wine

Sift dry ingredients together and rub in butter.
Beat egg and wine together. Combine ingredients and mix into a stiff dough. Leave to stand overnight. Take a piece of dough and work red bolus into it. Roll out the remaining dough to a thickness of 5mm. Arrange strips of red bolus dough on rolled out dough and roll out again, to a thickness of 5mm. Cut out rounds of dough with a glass about 50mm in diameter. Bake in hot oven (200°C) for 10 minutes.

I decided to decorate them with a blanched almond each. To blanch almonds: bring a pot of water to the boil. Put in the almonds and boil for 1 minute only. Drain and rinse them in cold water to stop them from cooking. The peels will rub off very easily.

After 10 minutes, I could marvel at the trays of childhood memories coming out of the oven. Tasting the cookies I realised that the red bolus was strictly for decorative purposes and had no impact on the flavour.

 

Prayers and Proscinemi

Sometimes one comes across an artwork that is appealing on so many levels without consciously knowing why. When I came across an artwork described as, A Proscinemi for Persephone, at an auction, it strongly appealed to me. Featuring eighteen symbolic tablets, containing references to seed, earth, a pomegranate, and classical Greek inscription, I was curious to learn more.

Procinemi for Demeter in its new home

I knew the secret lay in the title. I had no idea what a Proscinemi was, but I recognised Persephone as the Greek goddess of seasons and vegetation, and queen of the Underworld. The part concerning the seasons and vegetation appealed to me, less so the Underworld. The seasons and vegetation are vital to life at Towerwater.

Then I discovered that Proscinemi is a prayer, or act of adoration or homage offered to the divinity to ask protection, help, or health for oneself or for dear and absent persons. It does not always have to imply a religious concern, but it can also be devotions made for the prosperity of relatives or friends that are far away by remembering them during a visit to some wonderful monument.

Towerwater embodies our monument to creative craftsmanship and the celebration of family and friendship in a place that is special to us.

The symbolism in the artwork reflected what we do at Towerwater. Where we celebrate absent friends and family when they can’t be with us and give thanks when they are able to join us. I decided to bid on the artwork and bring it to Towerwater. I thought, at Towerwater it can appropriately fulfil its symbolic role as a celebration of friends and family in their absence and presence.

On closer inspection, after taking delivery in Wellington, near Cape Town, I discovered that the work needed remounting. We decided to keep the work under wraps and take it directly to framers in Salt River, Cape Town for remounting. I asked that the original information card on the back to be retained on the new backing.

On collecting and finally unwrapping the remounted Joe Tilson etching, I could study the fish moth eaten information card on the back. I discovered that it was a Proscinemi for Demeter and not Persephone, as had been previously indicated. It had been traded by the Joseph Wolpe Gallery in Cape Town some years prior to the Gallery’s closure in 1990, when Joseph decided to take up full-time painting.

Wolpe introduced South Africans to international art through finely chosen works which were exhibited in his gallery, while at the same time showcasing local artists like Stern, Skotnes, Higgs, Page and Gassner. Unknowingly, I had bought an artwork with a very interesting provenance.

Joe Tilson did create a Proscinemi for Persephone, 1981 - confusing the auction house

Joe Tilson (1928 - ) is a British artist and Royal Academian who played a major role in the British Pop Art movement in the 1960s. The Greek themes first appeared in his work following a visit to Greece in 1981. The ‘Proscinimi’ etchings, present the idea of paying homage to the earth and relates to visits to sacred places associated with the gods of ancient times.

The work contains clues to the mythology of the goddess. The image of the hand for instance, symbolises the ancient ritual of laying hands on a sacred site. The image relates to the history of ‘Proskynema', practiced by the Greeks in Egypt. ‘Proskynema’ is where a Pilgrim would leave a votive offering, an inscription, or an image as a trace of their visit to a holy site. Among the tablets presented in the work are references to grain, seed, the earth's fertility, a pomegranate, and the labyrinth. The variously formed ‘tablet' shapes with eyeholes suggest ancient writing tablets from which their inscriptions have long since disappeared.

Proscinemi for Demeter by Joe Tilson, 32/50, 1981

When I realised that the proscinemi was for Demeter, all the references to Demeter in the 18 collage items suddenly made sense. Secretly, I was happy that it was for Demeter and not her daughter, Persephone.

A statue of Demeter at the British Museum, London.

Demeter is the goddess of the harvest and agriculture, presiding over crops, grains, food, and the fertility of the earth. She is the sister of Poseidon and Zeus. I think the Proscinemi for Demeter is a very appropriate addition to Towerwater where harvest, agriculture and the fertility of the earth plays a very important part in our daily lives. And what better way can there be to pay homage to friends and family.

Fixing limewash problems on traditional interior walls

Working with traditional building material requires more than an off-the-shelf solution for problems. This is particularly true when it comes to the finishing detail on walls, like plastering, rendering, and painting. With the buildings at Towerwater having been built with sunbaked bricks, plastered, and rendered with a mud plaster, and painted with limewash throughout, it is important to understand the different materials used and their chemical relationship to each other. It is this knowledge, or awareness, that is essential when it comes to traditional building restoration or maintenance.

The Voorkamer limewashed with Deep Cream Limewash

One frustration encountered in maintaining the inside of the building, was that not all the walls in rooms reacted in the same way when limewashed. Although all environmental conditions were the same and the same brand of limewash was used throughout. The only variable being the selected colour shade of the limewash, differing one room from another.

The limewash on the walls in three rooms was very good and we never experienced sifting. However, in another three rooms a problem manifested where the limewash appeared to powder against the wall and constantly sift onto the floor and nearby furnishings.

To assess each room and identify anomalies that might cause this sifting, was no easy process. The rooms were all prepared in the same way prior to limewashing. The fact that the limewash contained different colour pigmentation, we thought, should not have affected the end result in that way.

Different colour limewash for different rooms 

In determining what might have gone wrong during the limewashing process, we looked closely at what could have gone wrong with the preparation of the walls and the application of the limewash. The walls were all cleaned down to remove powdery or flaking limewash. The walls were carefully dampened with water prior to, and again after limewashing, so as to ensure a slow curing process. The only variables at this stage were a possible variation in the consistency of the limewash (continuous stirring is important) and the length of time between the application of subsequent coats.

The manufacturer’s information on the drums of limewash, indicates that the limewash is ready for use after it has been stirred thoroughly. It also indicates that one can add some water to thin the limewash and that will help to apply it more easily. Multiple thin coats are preferable to one or two thick coats. I did all that the first time, so no real warning lights going on where the thickness was concerned. Did I apply the layers too soon? The manufacturer’s information indicated that it was best to let the coats dry overnight but one can paint the second coat when the first is visibly dry. Clearly, the coats were applied the correct way. The only step I might not have followed properly was to dampen the walls between coats.

The grey limewash in the drum and the end result on a bedroom wall

It did not explain why three rooms were fine and another three not.  We decided to follow every instruction to the letter when applying limewash on the interior walls this time. The walls in the first problem room were prepared by brushing with a stiff brush. After that, all the walls were vacuumed to remove any remaining dust or loose material.

The first coat of the limewash went on like a dream but as it dried, it was clear that we had not solved the sifting problem. Very despondent, we went back to our sources. We contacted the manufacturers. They could not advise us but instead freely offered two samples of their other products to apply over the limewash as a sealant. They requested that we provide feedback on our findings. Although we accepted the products, we were reluctant to use it on our walls. Sealing the walls with an acrylic water-resistant finish seemed to defeat the purpose of using limewash that expressly allows the earthen walls to breath by allowing the free passage of moisture.

We decided that the solution for a problem with a traditional product must be found in traditional usage practices. We could find little guidance and information for the use of limewash in South Africa. With the slow demise of traditional buildings in the Western Cape and the country at large, the demand for traditional building materials seems also to be reducing and with it, the associated vernacular knowledge.

Rennet Casein powder

Reading some technical advice on a British website about lime, offered some hope. Several traditional formulas consist of lime slaked and thinned to a cream to which various additions are made, such as salt, alum, powdered glue, casein (skimmed milk), etc.  Limewash that contains casein will have a better binding with the wall and the coagulation of the limewash will prevent the lime from sifting when it is dry. There is amazing information to be found about limewash and the chemical reactions of it with walls. The use of casein for architectural purposes dates to the ancient Egyptians who used lime-casein to protect renders.

Casein gives greater binding properties to clay and lime mixtures. Casein, like lime, is breathable. We decided that adding casein will provide the most likely solution to the sifting or flaking problem when the limewash is applied to the walls. A small quantity of casein added to limewash will thicken and strengthen it considerably.

Liquid rennet used in cheese making

Rennet (complex enzymes found in the stomach of a calf) and casein (a protein found in milk) are key ingredients in cheese making. Rennet casein contains casein of 100 % purity. Milk powder also contains casein but at a lower percentage, of around 80%.

After proper research, Keith set off to the largest cheese factory of the three found in our valley to enquire about buying some rennet casein in the hope of solving our limewash problem. The plant manager was very accommodating and generously provided Keith with 500g samples each of the powder products Rennet Casein and Casein with which to experiment.

Liquid rennet and casein powder

The ratio of rennet casein to limewash we found on a lime information website from the UK. We mixed 25 grams of the rennet casein powder to 1 litre of limewash. This limewash and rennet casein mixture worked like a charm. Apart from giving the wall a smooth dust free look, the limewash now also adheres to the walls without rubbing off.

Adding casein and rennet to the limewash 

For the casein mixture we used the same ratio of 25 grams of casein to 1 litre of limewash, but we added 0.166 ml (½ ml on 3 litres) of rennet. We bought a handy 100ml container of rennet from a shop in Cape Town that sells cheese-making ingredients. Adding either the ready mixed Rennet Casein or the Casein powder with the liquid Rennet product, provided the same excellent results.

The end result of using the ingredients for cheesemaking in the limewash, solved our problem. Reading about adding buttermilk to one’s limewash now makes so much sense because it is, after all, another source of casein. Knowing what casein can do for the adhesion of limewash to walls, I can understand why wall paintings from ancient Egypt still look so clear and fresh, even after the passage of thousands of years.

Adding some ingredients for cheese-making to one’s limewash does not seem so cheesy after all.

 

Sources:

https://www.lime.org.uk/  - Limewash Application Guide

https://www.readkong.com/page/paints-and-their-history-articles-printed-in-the-western-3348832 - Paints and their History

https://repository.upenn.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1382&context=hp_theses - Traditional Architectural Renders on Earthen Surfaces

 

Dressing a Neoclassical four poster bed

Years ago, when Hettie Pool still had her antique shop on the corner of High and Trappes Streets, in Worcester, we popped in to say hello to Ena Steyn, a friend’s mom, who managed the shop. The shop occupied one of the original thatched townhouses, dating from the 1800’s.  We took the opportunity to look around the many rooms that were filled with antiques.

Ena showed us a rural Cape Neoclassical four poster bed made from yellowwood and stinkwood. Although the Neoclassical period in Europe spanned the years 1760 to 1820, the stylistic Neoclassical period at the Cape of Good Hope occurred a bit later, featuring in the years from 1790 to 1870. (Source: Ou-Kaapse Meubels, Matilda Burden, 2013).

The bed embodied the classical characteristics of the period, namely, clarity of form with strong horizontal and vertical lines that give it a timeless feel. We really liked the bed and decided that it would be perfect for the master bedroom at Towerwater. When we bought the bed, it was undressed, meaning that it had only the stinkwood frame resting on the top of the four posts without canopy or hangings.

We decided on the final colours for the bedroom during the latest round of renovations and refurbishments. This included the curtains, canopy, bed hangings and lampshades. In pursuit of historical inspiration, I could find no accurate visual record of how a typical canopy and bed hangings of this period in the Cape, might have looked.

In his book, Cape Antique Furniture, published in April 1959, Lennox van Onselen describes bedroom furniture in chapter five. He states that, “Cape bedroom furniture usually consisted of a fourposter bed, an armoire, a washstand and a dressing table on which stood a dressing mirror.” He says about the four-poster bed, “They were adopted as a necessity in the country districts where living quarters and sleeping apartments were not always differentiated. The curtains with which the sides could be enclosed gave a measure of privacy in overcrowded rooms and the canopy afforded protection from dust which inevitably sifted through the makeshift ceiling.”

Describing the construction of the bed, he says, “At the Cape, the craftsmen followed a middle of the road policy. The posters were turned or fluted and the bedhead or end was very often embossed with scrollwork and carving. The canopy, which was sometimes decorated with the shell or oakleaf motif, never reached the heights of extravagance it did in Europe.”

In her unpublished thesis, The interior of the Cape house, 1670 to 1714, submitted in May 1982, Carolyn Woodward gives detailed descriptions of the beds found in a Cape house during this period on pages 100 to 111. She found that the word “Ledekant” was used to describe a four-poster bed at the Cape. In the inventories there are several mentions of a “ledekant (four poster bed) met behangsel (canopy and curtains)” but the only indication of what it might look like was the mention of the colour.

After consulting several books on Cape furniture, namely, Cape Antique Furniture, Lennox van Onselen, 1959, Cape Furniture, M G Atmore, 1965, Cape Country Furniture, M Baraitser and A Oberholzer, 1971, Town Furniture of the Cape, M Baraitser an A Oberholzer, 1987, Cape Antique Furniture, M Baraitser and A Oberholzer, 2004 and Ou-Kaapse Meubels, Matilda Burden, 2013, we decided to go with a plain canopy with a scallop design.

The colours selected for dressing the bed were inspired by the Royal blue and Ochre glass in the happy door leading to the ensuite bathroom. The canopy was made using Royal Blue fabric trimmed with antique gold braid. We decided to replace the traditional heavy curtains around the bed with mosquito net. This, given that the function of the curtains would be more to keep out prying mosquitos during summer than for privacy. In a balmy summer, heavy curtains enclosing the bed might also prove unbearable. A mosquito net, however, would allow for comfortable ventilation while offering protection.

The curtains seen through the mosquito net

Dressing the bed gives us a sense of progress and completion in the ongoing Towerwater restoration project. Detailing the interior to match the exterior of the buildings, long formed part of the dream to restore and capture the essence of a Cape period house. Using period South African furniture, porcelain, fabrics and other design elements, made it a bit more challenging but so much more rewarding in the end.

Now we can go to bed in a dressed four-poster described as the king of beds and a bed fit for a king.

Of clocks and regulators

In January this year, we bought a Vienna regulator wall clock at a local antique auction held in Robertson. We had decided that we would buy it if the auction price was reasonable. That intention was short-lived when the bidding went above our agreed price and Keith decided that he really liked the clock.

When we got the clock home, we realised that it might not be a case of just hanging it on the wall and winding it up. We decided to take it to a clock smith for a full assessment and service before mounting it on the dining room wall. We were referred to a clock smith in Cape Town by my cousin, himself an avid antique clock collector. The quotation for the service/maintenance of the clock was a greater shock, coming in at about double the auction price. We contemplated consigning it to the loft and cutting our losses.

In the end, we decided to bite the bullet and let the clock smith service it while we repainted the interior of the house. An arrangement that would ensure a ready spot for its eventual hanging.  After seven months, the big day finally came for the delivery from Cape Town and professional installation of the clock. We had been informed that there could be no guarantee unless the clock was hung and set personally by the clock smith. We waited in anticipation for its arrival from Cape Town. We secured a long screw in the wall where it would hang, ensuring that it would not easily dislodge from its position in the 200-year-old bricks and mortar.

After several lengthy meter readings and adjustments to the clock hanging on the wall, the clock smith had to concede defeat and admit that the clock did not want to work. The only way forward was to take it back to Cape Town to disassemble and assess what fault might have arisen on its journey to Towerwater. Such work could of course only be undertaken on it in his workshop where he had all the necessary precision tools at hand.

With heavy hearts we had to watch the clock drive off into the distance with only a solid screw in the wall to remind us that we had seen our clock on the wall, if only for a relatively brief period.

Three weeks later our clock returned. This time it actually worked and could hang happily in its spot, hopefully never to be touched again apart from being wound.

I have referred to it as a clock, but I need to explain that it is actually a Vienna regulator. We are informed that a Vienna regulator is weight driven. Regulator clocks were invented in the late 18^th century for greater timekeeping accuracy. The features of a regulator are, having a quality weight driven mechanism, a heavy pendulum, a second dial registering 60 beats per minute, gear train driven, a deadbeat or pinwheel escapement, and most notably, expressly engineered to keep accurate time. In the home, and in an era when accurate timekeeping was rare, the regulator provided a reliable source from which all other time-pieces could be set or corrected.

Our regulator clock has two gear trains, one for timekeeping and one for striking the hours and half hours. The clockmaker’s trademark, located on the mechanism, is a rose flanked by the letters R and S and the letter M centered beneath. From this we learned that our regulator clock was made by Reinhold Schnekenburger, Clock Maker, in Mülheim, Germany.

The clockmakers trademark and the serial and batch number 

The rose trademark provided divine confirmation for Keith that the universe willed it that this clock should be in Towerwater, with its Rosarium. 

In 1882 Reinhold Schnekenburger bought the firm Rupert Amann Fabrik für Federzug- & Gewicht-Regulateure, of Mülheim founded in 1867. It continued as R. Schnekenburger GmbH a.d. Donau with the rose and with the RSM as a trademark until bankruptcy in 1900.

I have calculated that our clock was most likely manufactured late in the second half of 1890. This calculation followed extensive research and is based on the serial number and batch number system postulated by John Hubby, respected staff member of the National Association of Watch & Clock Collectors in the USA.

Finally, our regulator clock returned to Towerwater, and we could mount it in what will probably be its permanent spot while with us. Suddenly, the rhythm that disappeared when the Town’s church clock stopped, is back in our lives. With the calm tick-tock driven by the rhythmic swing of the pendulum, the Towerwater house has regained its own heartbeat. The hours and half hours are struck with a gentle and mellow gong that reminds us of the constant passing of time.

Keith gained a new toy that needs winding and care, but it needs to be handled gently. The stabilisers on either side of the clock case provide an indication of the precise position the clock needs to be in to allow the pendulum to swing back and forth at peak efficiency. The slightest movement out of this position will make it stop or at the very least, lose time-keeping accuracy.

I like the new heartbeat of the house that provides an ancient rhythm by which to schedule our daily lives. 

The silence of the bells

The clock in a church steeple in a small country town plays a vital part in the regulation of life and daily routines in the community. Traditionally, Churches tended to be found at the centre of a town or village. The clock can be seen from a distance and with the bell chiming the hours and half hours, it is a constant reminder of the passage of time in each working day and one’s ultimate appointment with one’s maker.

Working in the garden at Towerwater, it is convenient to glance up at the time on the church clock down the road. At night the chiming keeps one informed of the time should one be awake. With the town nestled amongst orchards and vineyards, doubtless the clock and bell of the “Gemeente Vandermerwe” Dutch Reformed Church was once a vital source of timekeeping for everyone working in the vineyards and orchards.

The village of Bonnievale was founded in 1922 with the establishment of the Congregation van der Merwe of the Dutch Reformed Church on the 30th of August of that year. The name of the town was arrived at following the building and opening in 1902 of a railway siding called Vale. In 1917 Vale became Bonnie Vale. The town of Bonnievale gained municipal status in April 1953. (Source: Dictionary of South African Place Names, P E Raper, first published in 1987). The current centre piece church of the Congregation van der Merwe, was built in 1952.

During the Covid lockdown, the clock of this church stopped at five minutes past two. With that, the chiming church bell fell silent. It is as if the rhythm of the town has gone. The distant chiming of the bell is not a part of a walk in the country anymore. Walking to town one cannot do a quick time check on the church clock to see how much time one has left before the shops close. It is a natural reflex to glance up at the church clock, to check the time as one passes by.

I believe it is quite expensive to repair or service the church clockwork. With life turned upside down by the pandemic, I am sure the congregation has other pressing priorities. I miss the clock and its bell, now only hand wrung for church services. Their absence has brought a silence that feels out of step with the natural order of things.

With the centenary celebration of the founding of the congregation and church, perhaps there is still a chance that the clockwork might be repaired before the end of the year. I was hoping for the return of the sounds of the church bell chiming the hours through the winter air on 30^th August 2022, but it was not meant to be.

Our marmalade malady

One thing I can say is life is never boring at Towerwater. We are in the middle of major renovations of the interior rooms of the house. We tried to contain the inevitable disruption to our lives by undertaking it room by room, but this became impossible through the unpredictability of restoration processes and now we are living with three rooms packed up. Most of the content of these rooms huddling in the centre of the rooms leaving the walls free for the different stages of preparation and limewashing.

The house renovations are taking centre stage in our lives. I am sad to admit that the gardens are being neglected in the process this year. The major tasks like pruning, composting, and putting down manure did happen, but the planting and sowing has been neglected. We hope to catch up later in the spring.

One task we did not have time for this year was making marmalade. With the citrus lane covered in yellow and orange fruit begging to be turned into marmalade, we decided instead to give them to friends in town. At least they will still be used for making marmalade and all the healthy organic citrus peals will not go to waste. In our home, freshly squeezed orange juice has become a staple at breakfast.

Our marmalade malady was soon resolved by sharing the healthy organic fruit and hopefully picking up some good karma in the process.

Our holding back on sowing plans this year did not stop Mother Nature from doing her own thing. The garden looks as though She danced through it with a broken bag-full of nasturtiums seeds. The garden is a riot of shades of yellow and orange. The dams around the fruit trees are filled to the brim with flowering nasturtiums. A nasturtium has also spread up and through the citronella scented geranium in the herb garden.

The flowering almond trees alongside the road between Robertson and Bonnievale reminded me of the passing of time and that it has been eight years since I started writing this blog. It is amazing how things change and yet how many stay the same. I suppose these are the signposts of the normal eb and flow of life.  

We did not get around to making marmalade this year, but we are managing to finalise the restoration of the interior detail of the house, I hope.

Happy 8th birthday, Blog!

Previous birthday posts

Still life with oranges - 2021
Almond trees in August -2020
Of birthdays and blossoms - 2019
A life imagined - 2018
Looking back to the future - 2017
Reflections - 2016
Happy birthday blog - 2015
Heading for spring -2014