news from the frontline

We've named him Gert- and meet Sizwe, below- my brother in arms. I can hear the rat-ta-ta-tat of the paintball gun approaching. I'm now familiar with the terms like ' Hold the front line!', ' Flush him out!' they are in constant radio contact and on my speed dial, I have a better understanding of the term guerrilla baboon warfare.

Sizwe and Armstrong are having a quick coffee and muffin in our garden, whilst keeping a watchful eye on the guava tree.

Sizwe explains our trouble in detail, the older alpha male with the collar has recently won his troop back with the help of his marauding son, our untagged trouble maker> The other young male, tagged, is the son of deceased alpha male- I'm thinking....no good comes of alpha's and their offspring.

It's hard work for Sizwe and his team, 7 days a week, until dark and over great distances- I came across them in hot pursuit on the other side of the mountain chasing Gert back to Tokai forest.

I think they are winning- but until we're sure, doors are still locked and loading catering into the Citroen has more eyes than on a bank cash van- there shall be no catering heists on my watch!

the sun will come out tomorrow

There's a spring in my step as we walk today and I can't help hearing 'Annie' in my head....

'The sun will come out tomorrow, tomorrow..........tomorrow is only a day away'

winter enough

I fear you might never see a sunny picture on my blog again-

I'm all wintered out.....my boots are broken from all the stomping, my winter wardrobe I shall burn, even the evening fires have lost their allure.

We had a hint of spring a day or two ago, I sat with my face to the sun and refused to budge, the first fragrant jasmine blossoms revealed themselves, only to be blown away- hath winter no mercy?

The 'sunny' day after the storm - more like a small herd of elephants on the rampage.

Summer come back......was it something I said?

more monkey trouble

In all the years we've lived in our little cottage, come rain or shine, the lounge door to the garden always stays open- not anymore, the marauding young male baboon visits daily, hoping to get lucky.

His tally in the first unsuspecting week- 1 pizza, 10 bananas, a box of ouma's breakfast rusks, half a packet of raisins (not to his fancy), 1 pkt of crumpets, 3 avocados, 2 naartjies, 1 ciabatta bread,1 wholewheat bread and half a sweet potato- to be fair it was a little old.

But wait, there's more- the little marauder has learnt a new skill since last week, he's figured out how door handles work, so we are not only shut up, but also locked down.

I'm having a recurring nightmare that I slip into the garden for garnish and return to find Mr Baboon enjoying my client's catering.

This is another young male in a hurry after the Baboon monitors chase him with a paintball gun.

Their population has grown and their territory has been encroached, the mountain in now full of vineyards, add to that a neighbourhood with fruit trees and garbage bins- we've got trouble.

vineyards and clouds

More pictures of tranquility and serenity - the household's technology turbulence continues with a particularly low blow.

My computer booted up only to reset itself in the safety of 2008, evidently a good year.

To clarify- there is nothing on it.

As I stomp Groot Constantia's vineyards I'll be wondering, is it Mercury's retrograde or perhaps a strangers's curse? More to the point, why am I so bloody close to Mercury, what could I have possibly done to offend and finally- if the tasting cellar is still open, I'm stopping in for a drink.