To see more entries in Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge Week #13 go and have a look here.
Salamander, Zephyr, Dusketha and Breama
Song of Four Fairies – John Keats
Salamander
Happy, happy glowing fire!
Dazzling bowers of soft retire,
Ever let my nourish’d wing,
Like a bat’s, still wandering,
Faintly fan your fiery spaces,
Spirit sole in deadly places.
In unhaunted roar and blaze,
Open eyes that never daze,
Let me see the myriad shapes
Of men, and beasts, and fish, and apes,
Portray’d in many a fiery den,
And wrought by spumy bitumen.
On the deep intenser roof,
Arched every way aloof,
Let me breathe upon their skies,
And anger their live tapestries;
Free from cold, and every care,
Of chilly rain, and shivering air.
Zephyr
Spirit of Fire! away! away!
Or your very roundelay
Will sear my plumage newly budded
From its quilled sheath, all studded
With the self-same news that fell
On the May-grown Asphodel.
Spirit of Fire — away! away!
Breama
Spirit of Fire — away! away!
Zephyr, blue-ey’d Faery turn,
And see my cool sedge-bury’d urn,
Where it rests its mossy brim
‘Mid water-mint and cresses dim;
And the flowers, in sweet troubles,
Lift their eyes above the bubbles,
Like our Queen, when she would please
To sleep, and Oberon will teaze.
Love me, blue-ey’d Faery, true!
Soothly I am sick for you.
Zephyr
Gentle Breama! by the first
Violet young nature nurst,
I will bathe myself with thee,
So you sometimes follow me
To my home, far, far, in west,
Beyond the nimble-wheeled quest
Of the golden-browed sun:
Come with me, o’er tops of trees,
To my fragrant palaces,
Where they ever floating are
Beneath the cherish of a star
Call’d Vesper, who with silver veil
Ever hides his brilliance pale,
Ever gently-drows’d doth keep
Twilight for the Fayes to sleep.
Fear not that your watery hair
Will thirst in drouthy ringlets there;
Clouds of stored summer rains
Thou shalt taste, before the stains
Of the mountain soil they take,
And too unlucent for thee make.
I love thee, crystal Faery, true!
Sooth I am as sick for you!
Salamander
Out, ye aguish Faeries, out!
Chilly lovers, what a rout
Keep ye with your frozen breath,
Colder than the mortal death.
Adder-eye’d Dusketha, speak,
Shall we leave these, and go seek
In the earth’s wide entrails old
Couches warm as their’s are cold?
O for a fiery gloom and thee,
Dusketha, so enchantingly
Freckle-wing’d and lizard-sided!
Dusketha
By thee, Sprite, will I be guided!
I care not for cold or heat;
Frost and flame, or sparks, or sleet,
To my essence are the same;–
But I honour more the flame.
Spirit of Fire, I follow thee
Wheresoever it may be,
To the torrid spouts and fountains,
Underneath earth-quaked mountains;
Or, at thy supreme desire,
Touch the very pulse of fire
With my bare unlidded eyes.
Salamander
Sweet Dusketha! paradise!
Off, ye icy Spirits, fly!
Frosty creatures of the sky!
Dusketha
Breathe upon them, fiery sprite!
Zephyr and Breama
Away! away to our delight!
Salamander
Go, feed on icicles, while we
Bedded in tongue-flames will be.
Dusketha
Lead me to those feverous glooms,
Sprite of Fire!
Breama
Me to the blooms,
Blue-ey’d Zephyr, of those flowers
Far in the west where the May-cloud lowers;
And the beams of still Vesper, when winds are all wist,
Are shed thro’ the rain and the milder mist,
And twilight your floating bowers.
One-Liner Wednesday: Unexpected Rain
It’s rained so much the soya-beans dropped by the combine harvester have started to germinate – the resilience of life never ceases to amaze me.
Pop over to Lindaghill’s blog to see more One-Liner Wednesday posts.
Cruel April Fool
This year has been a very dry one for us. Our records show we have only received 245mm of rainfall. Compared to last year’s 1,500mm that’s abysmal, and it would have been a disaster farming-wise if we weren’t able to draw water from the Zambezi River for irrigation.
But dry weather makes ideal harvesting weather and we started lifting soya beans by hand last week in anticipation of the combine arriving on Monday to finish the job.
Our peanut crop was also ready for harvest and so last week it was all systems go! The ‘new’ second-hand peanut harvester we bought earlier this year and the tractors had been serviced, 50 extra hands had been hired and Piet was up before light, doing last-minute checks and reminding everyone of their duties.
Within minutes Piet realised something was amiss with the peanut harvester. It was blocking up with nuts and debris and just not doing the job properly. And so the frustrations began, and continued throughout the week and over the weekend.
Piet and the farm mechanic tinkered and tapped, removed parts, cleaned and then replaced them. They swore (a little), paced and scratched their heads. And they sweated! Temperatures (and tempers) were rising and clouds started forming on the horizon.
Eventually, on Monday, Piet conceded defeat, phoned around a bit and with a lot of perseverance and a little luck found a mechanic who specialises in fixing peanut harvesters – we are expecting him to fly in from Johannesburg today.
On Tuesday morning Piet realised that rain was inevitable, so he arranged to have some of the harvested nuts moved into our old managers house (our sheds are too full with next season’s fertilizer) where they would stay dry – the mechanic will need some dry material to test the machine with. Normally the harvested nuts are windrowed and left to dry in the fields – because it is normally dry at this time of year.
Then on Tuesday afternoon those clouds rolled in and it started raining. And it rained. And rained. And rained. It rained all through the night and only stopped at around 10 o’clock this morning, April 1st.
The offending peanut harvester hiding in shame
Come on in – grab yourself some peanuts
A pile of (dry) peanuts.
These are not so dry
Soggy windrows – and it’s threatening to rain again …
Waiting for a sunnier day
Certainly an April Fools Day for us, although not a particularly funny one.
My Butterfly
My Butterfly – by Robert Frost, 1874 – 1963
Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Save only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.
The gray grass is not dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago–
It seems forever–
Since first I saw thee glance,
With all the dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.
When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.
Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.
And there were other things:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
Too far beyond him to be gathered in,
Snatched thee, o’er eager, with ungentle grasp.
Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life–
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought,
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!
Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!
I found that wing broken to-day!
For thou are dead, I said,
And the strange birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.
With all thy dazzling other ones
In airy dalliance
Precipitate in love
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance
I found that wing broken today!
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Ephemeral”
Oh How I Love to Be By the Seaside
Rio Savanne was a favourite holiday place for us to visit when my children were small.
Situated just north of Beira in Mocambique it was far away enough from civilization for us to completely unwind and relax and getting there was relatively simple and quick.
I say ‘relatively’ quick but it was still close to a twelve hour drive from our home. However, compare that to the 18 to 20 hours it took to drive to Coconut Bay – our other favourite destination – and you will get my point.
Then, there was the ‘relatively’ not so simple issue of the Fronteira, or border crossing. The first time we crossed over, just after the civil war in Mocambique had ended, I think we were the first customers they had had for many years – no-one really seemed to know what to do with us (although in subsequent years that air of puzzlement and feeling of ‘organised chaos’ didn’t change, so perhaps that is just the way it is done).
We had managed to squirrel away a few US Dollars for the trip and our first hurdle occurred when we tried to use that to pay for our visa.
“Não! Não! Metacais!” the clearly frustrated Immigration official told us.
Ok, so where can we exchange Dollars for Mocambican Metacais?
“Banco! Banco!” The bank, we assumed (correctly).
He gesticulated wildly towards a scruffy building adjacent to the equally scruffy one we were in and we started walking off in that direction.
“Espera!“, Wait! He was becoming more and more flustered. So we waited while he took his pen (the only item that had been sitting on the counter) and locked it away in a room at the back.
He returned with an enormous bunch of keys and together we all traipsed across to the Banco. We had to wait while he muttered under his breath, rummaging through all those keys and trying them one by one in the door lock (there were only two buildings at the Fronteira, what all the other keys were for was anybody’s guess) until he finally exclaimed “esta aqui” and scurried inside.
He now obviously had his Banker Hat on. He went behind the counter and once there he put out his hand for the $100 bill, took it over to a till, opened it and rummaged around for a bit, all the time mumbling something to himself.
Then he shrugged, turned to face us and with a triumphant “non” he held both palms upwards, that universal gesture which means “there’s nothing”.
Now what? We can’t pay in US Dollars and the bank has no Metacais! Our holiday is doomed to never start! My children’s father started to become hot under the collar (and it was hot – we were all sweating) and one of the boys started to cry.
Another “espera!“.
Our immigration official-come-banker crossed back to the other side of the bank counter, removed that metaphorical bankers hat and put on his Money Tout Hat. He dug his hand deep into his pocket, removed a whole fistfull of notes and we entered into an illegal currency exchange right there*. In the bank. With the immigration official.
Looking at the current Rio Savanne web site it seems things have changed a lot since those early days, when we used to park our vehicle on the other side of the river and have all our camping gear ferried across in a small wooden boat.
Here you can see the village on the other side of the river where our vehicles were parked
It always impressed me how effortless it seemed for these men to move all that stuff! 
In those days the only accommodation was the tents you took with you and the only food you ate was what you cooked for yourself on a wood fire. 
When the tide was low we could walk for what seemed like miles along to the mouth of the Rio Savanne, the boys always taking along their fishing rods and me my camera. 
I love the patterns the retreating water makes in the sand. This was the days before digital photography, so I had to take pictures sparingly. But I was quite pleased with some of the results and thought these next few pictures will fit in very nicely with this week’s Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge theme, Abstract Photography. Pop over to have a look – there are some wonderful entries this week. 
* In case you’re interested, a hundred US Dollars got us approximately twenty three million Metacais.
Snow!
I’m sure many of you are sick of the sight of it but I’ve not had many opportunities to see snow (to be precise, twice) so when it snowed on Boxing Day while I was visiting my family in the UK I was delighted. That the snowfall coincided with First Born’s first night in the UK – and his first ever experience of snow – made it all the more exciting.
As the first flakes fluttered down we all rushed outside, immediately built a snowman and then gathered as much snow as we could to throw puny snowballs at each other. Our laughter and screams of hilarity drew confused neighbours to their kitchen window and we laughed even more when we heard one of them comment “Oh, it’s OK. They’re foreign”.
It’s not much to look at, but it’s Ours!
Foreign antics
The following morning my Dad took us all for a long walk around Shire Hill. I love the crunchy noise the snow makes when you walk on it!
The snow had hardened by then but that didn’t make the views any less spectacular.
Looking down on Glossop from Shire Hill
More snow was flung around.
And again the neighbours came to have a look.
What’s with these foreigners flinging snow all over the place?
Half way up the hill we found this poignant memorial and we stood still for a moment, the only sounds coming from the wind whistling through the trees and the occasional plaintive bleat from the sheep.
Come and sit for a while, and remember me
We all felt a little sobered, so it was a great relief to the eyes to see a small splash of colour among the white to cheer us up. First Born’s reaction was delightful – “But that’s so English!”.
Walking on Sunshine Blog Hop Party
This weekend, to celebrate the Partial Solar Eclipse in the UK, a Super Moon and the arrival of the Spring Equinox in the Northern Hemisphere, Hugh from Hugh’s Views and News is hosting a Blog Hop Party and everyone here on Planet Blog is invited!
We’re heading into winter in this part of the World (although you wouldn’t think so with the sweltering temperatures we’ve been experiencing) so I guess that makes today our Autumn Equinox. Happy Spring Day everyone else!
I follow and read so many wonderful blogs – each one is unique, inspiring, funny, entertaining, awe-inspiring. Every day when I visit my reader I learn something new, see something beautiful, laugh, sometimes cry. I love the way blogging brings people together, turning strangers into friends. I would like to link to every one of them but for the sake of brevity I have chosen to only highlight three. You can see a list of some of the other blogs I follow in the menu bar on the right – they are all worth a visit.
I want to thank Savannabel for giving me the courage to go ‘live’ with my blog. Had it not been for her egging me on I would still be writing secretly, for myself. Her blog is beautifully written and illustrated and her delicious recipes, all made with a unique local twist, are interwoven with interesting stories of life in the Zambezi Valley.
The first blog I followed is one of my favourites. Rachel cleverly winds her story around the amusing antics of her two (very cute) dogs, Cricket and Butterfly on The Cricket Pages. I try not to ever miss an episode.
One fellow blogger in particular has made a huge impact on my life. She has been my rock and my inspiration, and (with help from her husband) she has taught me just about everything I know and made me who I am.
She has a remarkable story to tell and I hope that you will take the time to go and read it at I Had a Life in Africa (the link will take you to her About page).
Ladies and Gentlemen, at risk of being accused of nepotism, I introduce to you Dendy MacToodle, AKA My Mum.
Dendy MacToodle
If you want to join in the fun this is all you need to do:
1. Choose a fellow blogger who you think spreads blog love.
2. Write a short post about them.
3. Entitle your post Walking On Sunshine Blog Hop Party (so others can find your post).
4. Create a pingback to Hugh’s post, so that the link appears in the comments section, so that other participants can read your post. Click here for details on how to create a pingback.
5. If you are not sure how to create a pingback, then copy and paste the link to your post in the comments section below Hugh’s post (so that other participants can read your post).
You can mention as many bloggers as you want in your post and write as much about them as you want, but try to not make your post too long. You can also use Hugh’s Walking On Sunshine Weekend photo in your post if you want to.
Enjoy the party everyone and keep spreading the blog love.
Hanging Over the Edge
It’s all about trust
Kariba Dam was constructed between 1955 and 1959 in the Kariba Gorge of the Zambezi River. The wall is 128m high and 579m long and the total water surface area of the dam is around 5,400 square kilometers.
Naughty Potomanautes
Yesterday morning I hadn’t yet put on my glasses when I surfaced from the bedroom and went into the lounge. I glanced across at the fish tanks, as I normally do, and noticed something strange. There appeared to be a mythical, multi-legged beast with two heads writhing around on the floor of the tank.
Skylla?
Glasses on, I peered closer. It seems there was a wedding last night. 
I made myself a cup of coffee, pulled up a chair and settled in to watch the show. (I know this might seem like a weird thing to do, but it’s not every day you see a pair of river crabs mating in your living room.) Three hours and a couple more cups of coffee later things had not progressed much, so I turned to Google to find out what I would be missing if I left them alone to carry on their, um, business … What I learned was that crabs usually mate soon after moulting, while their outer shells are still relatively soft and supple. Also that females of many African river crabs species (Potomanautes sp.) ‘give birth’ to live, perfectly formed baby crabs – unlike sea crabs which lay eggs that hatch into a larval stage before metamorphosing into little crabs. Another thing I learned is that the crab mating act can sometimes take many days to finish (!), so I gave up being a voyeur and went to work. In the evening when I got home they were still at it and only finally parted at around 8pm. I leave you with a short video I took. This is pretty much as exciting as it got and I think you will understand why I didn’t stick around to watch more.
I'll Give You a Letter For That 