A Ramble

28 August 202028 August 2020 | Forgotten Fields

Fynbos in the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved. — Whilst the scenery was spectacular, it was the flowers that captivated me.

Last Friday, I walked up the Little River Mountains range, which often appears in my writing and photography, in the company of Dr Chris Whitehouse, a botanist who owns—or rather stewards, as he reverently puts it—a swath of land upon one of its eastern slopes.

A fount of knowledge—how envious was I of his command of botanical names¹—he introduced me to many species that bloom there this time of year (the end of winter in South Africa), waiting patiently whilst I admired and photographed the flowers and scenery²:

The mountain was laden with Leucadendron whose green conquered the slopes in spectacular fashion.

Rocks and rock formations, expertly composed by Nature’s hand, created intricate visual scherzos.

At times, the cliffs were surreal in photomontage-like contrast with the surrounding landscape.

In their seams, Ikebanaesque arrangements burst forth whilst lichens freckled their faces.

Fynbos Ikebana in the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved. Lichens on a Kleinriviersberge Rock, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.

We would often encounter my beloved Lobelia, mostly L. Pinifolia, in violet and white.

Violet Lobelia pinifolia on the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved. White Lobelia pinifolia on the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.

I also saw for the first time, Gladiolus debilis, a lily my mother sometimes recalls from her childhood³.

Other first sightings included Cyphia volubilis winding up the slender stems of a reluctant Restio;

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Drosera cistiflora and D. pauciflora with their delicate petals distracting from tentacles below;

Drosera cistiflora on the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved. Drosera pauciflora on the Kleinriviersberge, 21 August 2020. Copyright 2020 Forgotten Fields. All rights reserved.

Salvia africana, its scruffy flower perching with a twig in its mouth (a protruding stigma);

Manulea cheiranthus with its small yellow starfish flowers cavorting atop the stems;

and a little Nemesia lucida⁴, most delightful of all, which, were it not for the attentiveness of my companion, I would have missed! Its adorable expression so captivated me that, reflecting upon it yesterday, I composed to it a little ode—a sketch for a future anthology!

In retrospect, I should have taken notes there and then—supplementing my DSLR photography with iPhone shots, which I could have annotated in the moment—saving me the subsequent search for botanical names (my occupation these past few days, hence the delay of this update), some of which I will doubtlessly have gotten wrong. Incidentally, Dr Whitehouse identified the mysterious flower I discovered two weeks ago (mentioned in “A Buck, a Bush and a Lily”, the fourth image in that update): a member of the genus Roepera, most likely Roepera fulva.
Photographed with the encumbrance of a visor (due to the pandemic), the images are not as good as I would have liked, but I trust they convey some of the beauty of the mountain and its flora.
She would pick “armfuls” of them when she was young, on her way home after a day of watching the sheep on the Little River Mountains. Incidentally, I used an iPhone 11 Pro to take the photograph above (I wanted to share the encounter with my mother in the moment, but there was no service) and must recommend it for detail and ease of use; it captured the delicacy of the tepals, lost in the Nikon images (of which I include one below, for comparison).
The closest match in my reference book is Nemesia macrocarpa which this flower does not resemble. Other sources lead me to believe it is N. lucida.

Books

26 July 2020 | Forgotten Fields

To Relish

Yesterday, I bought three books from my favourite second-hand bookshop¹ on subjects of particular interest to me: maps, Ancient Greece and the Romanticists. I was especially pleased with the atlas²—to date, the second in my possession—which shall be a source of endless fascination (I wrote about my love for atlases in “This October”³.)

To Research

Presently, I am reading Modern Art and the Death of a Culture by H. R. Rookmaaker, which gives a Christian perspective on modern art. Though I am an atheist, I find it most insightful. After I have finished it, I shall read The First Poets: Lives of the Ancient Greek Poets—writers from a culture I hold in the highest esteem—by Michael Schmidt.

To Recite

Wordsworth is the finest Romantic poet. Whilst I own several digital copies and one softcover of selections of his works, Wordsworth: Poetical Works “contains every piece of original verse … published by the poet himself, or of which he can be shown to have authorized the posthumous publication”⁴—a treasure to a Wordsworth devotee!

Quirk & Leopard in the seaside town of Hermanus in the Western Cape province of South Africa; all hardcovers, for less than 400 ZAR (South African rands, approximately 24 USD, 21 EUR or 19 GBP)—a steal.
The Times’ Concise Atlas of the World: Ninth Edition.
In the “I bought an atlas” section.
An extract from the front flap of the dust jacket.

A Return to the Valley

13 June 202013 June 2020 | Forgotten Fields

Two years ago, I revisited the Babilonstoringberge¹ valley, where I spent two idyllic years of my childhood with my family. During that visit², the sight of the much-altered labourer’s cottage, in which we lived at the time, was too much to bear and I did not photograph it. Yesterday, I returned there again and did.

To my surprise, I discovered that the original structure was left mostly intact, its face concealed by an addition of equal size to the front. At both sides of the building, a seam where the two sections join is visible. Doubtlessly, the new section was added to the front for lack of space at the back where a ditch runs³.

This development was comforting: not all of the past was lost—unlike the two-classroom building where I was under my schoolteacher mother’s tuition for two standards, destroyed by a fire, years later. Indeed, from the field behind the cottage, the scene was almost unchanged. I was pleased I returned to the valley.

Pronounced [bubbylons-tweRings-beRguh] with the [o] in “or”, the first [e] that in “were”, [i] the “a” in “about”, the second [e] that in “wet”, trilled [R]s and the [g] in “go”). Afrikaans for “Babel’s-tower-mountains”.
Which I briefly describe in the “I visited the past” section of “This November”.
I have fond memories of that quiet little stream, recalling the dragonflies I used to watch there in the poem “Of a Summertime” (unpublished).

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