Rustfontein-Fountain of Rest

This is the name of our farm–an old Afrikaans word for Fountain of Rest–Rustfontein.

It is located on the south coast of South Africa along a winding river.  We moved here with our two young children five years ago from Cape Town. It is a piece of paradise in this hurly-burly world where rest is assured—that is, if you are a guest here and not a resident where fruit, vegatable and animal rule the stress of the day on what needs to be planted, picked, fed, watered or processed.

This blog will be about country living, eating from the land, farming with guests and creative expression.

What we do everyday.

Renovator’s Dream

As I have said before the old farmhouse on Rustfontein was a bedraggled, flea-ridden, bug-infested bundle of back and headaches. Luckily Herman has a very keen eye for potential and was always dreaming about restoring this old nest of mould and scrap since we had first started visiting this area in  the early 1990’s.

Obviously his dream came true when we bought Rustfontein 5 years ago.  As one knows ,” be careful what you wish for” and all the worries that come with actualising one’s dream more likely gives you sleepless nights and very little time to dream. However there was “something’” about that old farmhouse that couldn’t be denied. It crept up on you whenever you stood still and just listened. There is the silence and with that a comfort, a warm blanket that gets wrapped around you. A sense of childhood and nostalgia. Of a simple life and simple pleasures. A place where you could lie down and just sleep for a couple of days, restoring your strength while doing it. Us–being the suckers we are for places and feelings couldn’t resist.

I have in a previous blog posted pictures of the completed house and what she looks like today, however I haven’t shown you what it looked like before (or during ) renovations so here goes.

Far left is what the house looked like when we started, it was a dumping ground for all sorts of experiments the previous owner did. On the right is the same angle with new gable going up.

At the back of the house was a very badly built “add on” that created damp, dark corridors. The decision was taken to remove it and restore the house to it’s original footprint. Left are photos of  the “add on” being removed, note the state of the walls on the right hand side. This area has now become an amazing outside eating area under an old Milkwood tree.

Left are before and during renovation pictures of the other side of the house.

The roof had a little attic but most of the beams were rotten, the footprint of the house is quite small so we decided to make a bigger attic and put in upstairs bedrooms and a bathroom. Thatch is a traditional roofing medium in this area so that is what we went for. We managed to keep the original floorboards. Some of the roof beams were salvageable and have now been made into a 20 seater table and benches for the new area out back.

Spring is on it’s way

We are starting to get lovely warm days, warm enough to wear a t-shirt and work in the garden. All of a sudden one starts to be aware that Spring is coming and that we need to be prepared for her. On Rustfontein that means hauling out the many packets of seeds we have stashed away and putting them into our boxes we built last year (wooden with clear pvc lids) to protect the new seedlings from the inevitable frost that can carry on until mid September, here on the river floodplain. It is the potential of every seed that is so exciting–seeing the orange butternuts, green beans, red tomatoes and purple aubergines laden in baskets waiting to be eaten and knowing they are healthy, organic veggies grown with love.

Through Winter we have put all our horse manure to good use and packed it about 10cm deep under all the fruit and nut  trees and as a mulch in all the herb and veggie beds. It has been slowly breaking down nourishing the soil ready for those seedlings.

We are planning a bigger vegetable patch on the Rustfontein side of the farm, Herman and Regan were out there this past weekend sowing carrots and beetroot seeds and setting up an irrigation system. As for me, I started to get a bit uptight about the state of my rather large flowerbeds in paradise so I have been diving in with my pruning shears, cutting away all the dead branches and pruning back ready for the spring growth (and not to mention pulling out weeds that seem to have crept in over Winter.)

In between all that pruning I managed to have a walk through the nut and fruit orchard. To stand and gaze at the bare trees covered with pink and white blossoms. It really is a sight to see and very, very pretty. Every blossom is a picture and is just perfect!

Poor Shadow has got Billary (tick bite fever) so he has ben put off all riding and exercise for 6 weeks plus I need to inject him every second day for a few days–not something I am looking forward to. He looks so sorry for himself, standing with his head down. I am giving him loads of attention and making him feel loved and cared for, the femine touch to faster healing!?

What I haven’t mentioned is the stunning Orange Marmalade I made this Winter. This is the first time making Marmalade –the Royale of jams!!! I never realised it was NOT jam with bits in. When my sister was here we made an even better one using our Ruby Grapefruit—perfect for that morning slice of toast!

Herman went off and did a course in making salami’s, coppa and italian sausage so I am sure that is the next thing that is going to hanging somewhere cool to cure!  Most proberly in the wine cellar–where, by the way, something very magic is happening in those vats.

Old Farmhouse Renovated

The house sleeps a total of 18 people, this includes a small outer cottage with it’s own bathroom. Anyone renting the house will have acess to the river which allows for kayaking , swimming and excellent bird watching. Acess to nature walks on the 640 hectare rehabilitated fynbos farm with kloofs, springs, caves and wildlife.

There will also be opportunities to buy any organic, home grown or made produce that would be available eg. meat, eggs, jams, honey, marmalade, fruit, veggies, wine and whatever is taking the fancy for that moment.

Catch up and first guests.

I am sure everyone is thinking that this blog is no longer active as I haven’t written for two months. In my defence a lot has been happening–we went on a fantastic trip to the Botswana side of the Kalahari and I turned 40 with a pride of 15 lions through our campsite twice, I then had my gorgeous sister here from Australia——

who was my right and left hand in helping me finish Emily’s (our renovated self-catering old farmhouse) and invited a whole group of our slick city friends  to stay there for a week-end to test it out for us. Nobody wanted to leave and it turned into a rather long weekend of catch up with a lot of red wine–so satisfied customers?

This past weekend we had our first paying customers, a group of people who had organised a kayaking, hiking, cycling competition ending on the farm.

It was really lovely to see the farmhouse being used and everybody having such a good time.

I thought for the next post I am going to pile on the photos and give you all a feel of what the guesthouse looks like and what we have been doing with all that paint and second hand furniture.

Holly and Mr Beeps

I see from the date of my last post I really am been kept busy with these renovations. The end does seem in sight and am starting to see our vision for Emily’s coming together. I will post some pre and post renovation pics in the next post. Our deadline is the 10th July —I do realise it won’t be perfect then, as perfect goes, but it must be habitable and able to sleep 17 people. It is a busy time!

Packed into our schedule of the farm and 2 very busy kids that have a lot of sport and going on, we have a new “Hanslam” or a lamb whose mother rejected it, she is called Holly. (an name of a character in a book Regan is reading). In fact we had another one as well, called Pixie–unfortunately she got pneumonia and only lived 2 weeks but Holly is fit and strong and a beautiful little lamb, settled nicely into her routine of being bottle-fed and chasing the geese.

When Holly was a week old we found a calf in the Backlands which was blind and couldn’t stay with his mother and was literally starving. So he became our first “Hanskalf”–a bottle-fed calf, that gulps down 2 litres of milk quicker that Holly can chug down her 500ml. We doctored his eyes and now he can see–I am not sure if perfectly but enough to chase Holly while she chases the geese!  He is so sweet and gentle and mellow. Sucking on our fingers or clothes at any opportunity. I am not sure what will happen as he grows and no doubt starts getting a bit pushy–the idea is to get him back up with the other cattle as soon as he is weaned (could be a while). In the mean time we are so enjoying having a calf in the garden.

Sundays are really lazy days for us–that means we don’t have to drive anywhere–no school, no sport.

For the kids this means having a pyjamas day–no getting dressed but hanging out in the sun, feeding the animals and enjoying being on the farm.

For us it normally means embracing the Slow Food Movement and preparing a meal that takes time, love and patience from our own produce.

Oh yes the calf somehow got the name Mr Beeps–it just popped out one day and it stuck.

Holly and Mr Beeps sleep together everynight curled up in one of the chicken teepees, keeping each other warm. Not sure if he will grow up thinking he is a sheep or if she will grow up thinking she is a cow or perhaps a goose!

Emily’s Jam Jar

Now, who may you ask is Emily? Well–I don’t know, but that is the name of the old farmhouse on Rustfontein. Emily’s Jam Jar.

The locals remember when there used to be a hippy community living out here in the 1970’s. They used to grow their own food, walk around naked, sing songs and were mostly from the Netherlands.(as local descriptions go). Rumour has it that they used the old farmhouse to store arms for the anti-apartheid movement until the men in black suits, wearing dark glasses and asking a lot of questions arrived–why it was called Emily’s Jam Jar and who exactly was Emily I still have to find out but the name is kinda cute and seems to stick for now. It does conjur up an image of long plaits and a tie-dye caftan, sticky pots and sweet fruit packed into glass bottles. Homely and cute without being twee.

So–Emily’s has been renovated from a dilapidated, flea-ridden, bug-infested, falling down danger zone into a beautiful, light, characterful, thatch-roofed self-catering guesthouse. At the moment we are busy with the interior, as in furniture, curtains, bed-linen. Both Herman and I are into being resourceful and love seeing  the potential of things, so we have been trawling the second-hand furniture shops literally shaking with excitement at the insight of what a slick of paint, a re-upholster or a clean-up can do for this bargain pieces. Coming home laden with interesting crockery, old linen to be made into cushions, original farm pieces, stools, chairs, wrought-iron beds, wooden cupboards and kists—all authentic, nothing mass produced, all with soul, waiting for a place at Emily’s.

I am presently busy with my paintbrush, garden spade, handdrill, sewing machine, sandpaper and home decor magazines, bringing back to life this lovely old lady, Emily. Creating the charm of yesteryear with a hint of modern freshness, country in a light, refreshing way. Shabby chic meets farm, a mix of light colours and natural wood, white bed linen and loads of comfort. Stone fireplace and al fresco eating  under the old Milkwood–Provence in the Southern Cape.

So if the blogging seems to be a bit slow, it is because Emily is taking up all my free time at the moment.

Farmer’s Wife (se voet)

Yesterday being Mother’s Day here in South Africa, coffee in bed is the rule. We also had Herman’s mother, sister, very pregnant niece and her 18 month old son here for the weekend. A hell of a lot of mother’s around and four generations in one room—interesting and entertaining all at the same time!  It was lovely to have them all here and of course the inevitable too much food and good red wine was consumed.

Nikki — the new horse–decided to give me a present . When I gave him his food one of my lovely little Boschvelder hens tried to sneek a bit of lucerne, he gets a bit agitated around his food and was putting his ears flat at her and stamping his back foot around. Of course a chicken doesn’t understand horse communication and had no idea that she was threatening his very precious supper. I was climbing through the fence to shoo her away when his back foot came down  swiftly on her neck—no more chicken bothering him and he quietly carried on eating.

I kinda stood there not really sure of what I had just seen (I think the pre-dinner brandy hepled “take the edge” of watching the final death rattle). I gingerly went to pick her up — by her feet and well away from any horses back feet–yup she was well and truly dead. So–as my new farmer self I immediately thought I can’t waste this lovely hen I must pluck and clean her now–before supper. My old city self argued back that I should feed her  to the otters or bury her–much easier, less mess and simple. Farmer’s Wife responded–what a waste, be resourceful, honour this life by processing the physical. City Slicker is horrified–dump it, tell no-one–chuck it quick!!! There is no worker on the farm to help you –it’s Sunday, quick!  Throw it into the reeds!

Now I don’t know who drank that Brandy–I suspect it was Farmer’s Wife because she won. Walking nonchalantly to the house swinging my dead chicken by it’s legs–ready to pluck . Secretly knowing my mother-in-law and sister-in-law all talk about the good old days when they were on the farm and all the farm produce they ate, I hoped they would all jump on my bad wagon and help me do the neccessary. Fat chance!  Herman was busy making chicken on the Weber for supper and said he would boil the water but really the smell would put him off his very delicious Weber braaied chicken that he had spent all afternoon preparing. Mom-in-law wasn’t forthcoming and neither sis–all exclaiming that the maids used to do it on their farm—hmm farming in Africa!!!!

So there I was all alone with my dead hen, a pair of surgical gloves, a sharp knife and a pot of boiling water—doing my thing. While Herman prepared an awesome Mother’s Day meal I plucked, cut and disembowled my first chicken by myself. (Thank god for Wellingtons!–Brandy not boots).

So–farmer’s wife huh?  Have you slaughtered and processed your own chickens? Or did your Ousie do it for you? (To be fair–Nikki did do the slaughtering.) But I still feel smug and slightly superior knowing my path to self-sufficiency and self-reliance has been cleared of a few more shrubs that were crowding the oh so sandy track.

The Nickster-a friend for Shadow

Finally have managed to get my dreadfully lonely (or so I thought) horse a buddy. But Shadow is being a complete cow,  trotting around, showing dominance, ears back, mock charging and behaving like a spoilt brat. And all Nikki (new playmate) wants to do is hangout. He is moping behind Shadow, following him around like a love-sick puppy begging for attention–or at least a welcoming look in his direction. No such luck, if horses could growl and bare their teeth that’s what Shadow would do. Snarling from a corner. And oh so loveable when I arrive, running up to the fence, nuzzling and demanding my attention–and this, after months of the “oh it is you” behaviour, “I suppose you can scratch my head if you really want to” attitude. Ha! He likes me afterall! 

They will settle down though and I am convinced Shadow will come round to realising life with a friend is far more exciting. It is quite surprising for me that my docile “perdjie” is the dominating force of the two. I thought Nikki would be the one to boss Shadow around, prehaps in horse psychology Nikki is moving into Shadow’s terriotory and therefore he needs to assert his “kingship”. Actually that ain’t even horse psychology.

Anyway will post later how it all goes and some more pics of the growing herd!!

Muscovey update

Our first hatching of Muscovey Ducks are now almost three months old and seven out of the ten survived. They have started growing their feathers and a few of them are already almost the size of the mother. They are completely addicted to water and love pushing their beaks into mud, coming up black and happy. Six of them are white with a little black comb on their head, the seventh one is black with a bit of white and is taking a lot longer to get to size (about half the size of the biggest one) and hasn’t grown any feathers yet, still covered in down–I am quite suprised that in one hatching one can get such a difference in growth and developing rate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The little Macou/Muscovey on the right has already started developing it’s mature “bump” on the top edge of the beak.

On the left you can see the little black and white Muscovey that is taking it’s time in growing up.

More Fire

I remember telling someone the fire was out–well it was– just, smouldering until Thursday afternoon. Then did we panic. It ran up the kloof, where I was standing taking photographs, within three minutes—and over the koppie, running straight for the river and our houses!   Wildfire!  I think just see the photos.

While the fire was raging I had to drive the twenty minutes into town to fetch Regan from school, on the way in Herman phoned me in a panic to say I must get home ASAP as he was starting to evacuate, filling the car with important files and documents.

Keya happened to be at home with a stomach bug so the picture on the right is what I arrived home to, after racing these dirt roads. My poor eight year old daughter bravely hosing down the roof, while ash from the fire drifted all around, looking for a roof to ignite.

 

On the right is a picture of the fire breaching the koppie above our house. The fire truck full of water and waiting to do what they do.

After this picture was taken the fireman burnt a “front fire” on the patch of green in front of the truck. This is what stopped the fire from burning further down into the houses as the “front fire” burnt up to meet the wildfire which then had nothing to burn. Quite a brilliant concept and so simple! Of course the direction of the wind needs to be taken into consideration.

Below on the left is Herman watching the fire (one does a lot of watching) with the tractor and it’s tank of water on standby and on the right, burning trees.

Nether-the-less, we survived the day and so did the houses. Three days later there are still plumes of smoke rising from smouldering tree stumps and the ankle-deep ash is still warm but we have had a little bit of rain now and everything has quietened down.

Another adventure in paradise?

Hmmm—-fires and floods, the real dangers of living in the rural edge.