In the Loop

I thought I would do something different today. A very brief insight into our lives, an update if you will on things that have been happening:

• My wife is now 28 weeks pregnant with a baby girl. The pinkness which was always confined to my wife’s cupboard has started to mushroom in other parts of the house. I will need to keep an eye on this!
• My business which has focussed on management consulting for the last year will continue to do so but will also include a new twist. My partner and I are going to venture into some new and unknown territories as we pursue some opportunities which have presented themselves recently.
• Tweety, the old yellow Ford F100 that I am busy rebuilding is still looking old and sad despite 8 months of work. I have realised that I need to take more interest and get seriously involved in the creative aspects of her renewal otherwise she will always be a dog! Now that I have my mind around the artistic license required, I am keen to do more.
• The book I was writing lies within the depths of my computer, untouched. On the positive side, my mental book plan has changed again, and I really think I have an awesome angle. Excuses need to stop and words needs to be written...
• I still cannot drop in on my halfpipe (sorry, my children’s halfpipe)! All in good time...
• My surfing has come on in leaps and bounds mainly due to the halfpipe. Having a standing wave in the garden will do that for one!
• The new highlight in my boys lives are the judo lessons on a Monday and Wednesday evening. The lessons cause untold excitement and energy to explode into being. The three of us are doing it together and I hope that the end result is an increase in discipline.
• Our little stream in our garden is back to being a stream after the intense rain a couple of weeks back. I heard yesterday that our area last received that much rain about 60 years ago.

Life is good. Too good in fact. I feel guilty that I don’t do more to add value to all of the lives that surround us!

Wet, wet, wet

The heavens opened and it started to rain. It rained solidly for 40 days and 40 nights. No, wait, that’s a completely different story. But the heavens opened and the rain fell, and the land became sea again. Yup, that’s more like it!

The stream in my garden is small and gentle. It usually gurgles over the rocks that litter its path. Frogs croak lullaby’s to each other and our cats drink thirstily from its banks. The Cape thatching grass grows tall, and the bog irises multiply furiously, so much do they love their wet feet. It is calm and serene, the life blood of our garden.

And so it was that it rained and rained some more. Nobody could be found to close the heavens again, and it continued to rain. With surprise and wonder I looked at out the window at my garden stream, now a mere eight metres wide and surging furiously.

Aghast, I waded out in my wellies to survey my new water kingdom. As I watched my wooden bridge was lifted effortlessly and marched downstream where it became entangled in the fence. The bird table without a bird in sight, gave the illusion that it was a concrete disk that could float on water. I waded into the current to rescue it together with the concrete David underneath, who had been holding his breath for some time! The water had already risen another 10cm and was now lapping the base of my half pipe. Oh no! My nemesis was under attack!



Peering over my upstream neighbour’s fence, I was struck by a sense of motion. Their whole garden seemed to be on the move. With my torch cutting through some of the gloom, I realised that their garden was now one with the river. I realised that it was roaring! I silently bid farewell to my halfpipe.

Walking round the block, I ended up on a road just downstream from my house. Here the river was really angry. It had leapt from its banks, overrun the road, and was pouring mercilessly down the driveways of the houses that marked its old territory. The gardens had filled up like swimming pools, the retaining walls that normally kept the river in, now kept it out. Closed front doors did nothing to deter the rampage, inviting as much in as the volumes that swept by them. The sound of big mallets on stone reverberated through the air as desperate owners tried to break holes in walls and let the proverbial plug out of their cold water bath. And still it rained!



This ferocious beast grew bolder and deeper, now up to my knees in the road. After giving what help I could, I walked home, murmuring my prayers for those in shacks.

On awakening this morning, it was all gone. My stream that had become a river had now become just a torrent. A high water mark of debris was all that was left of the beast that had passed our way. The neighbours were nowhere near as lucky.

And still it rains!