I waded through the stream that was still running down from the mountain, quite scared of falling into a hole that was milled out by the water to see if all was well in Irma's house, as she was on the phone constantly, wanting me to go and have a look. But all was well, and she had only a few drips through the roof here and there.
It was a lovely morning, the yellow sun shining extra bright, maybe to make up for the devastation the rain caused. I made breakfast for Hendrix and me and sat on Irma's veranda enjoying the birdsong that was extra joyful, and looking down to the river I shivered at the sight of it a few days ago, with the ominous sounds it made, while taking huge poplar treetrunks away as if it were matchsticks. I watched an aerial view of the Haarlem valley on tv, and also of the pass to Uniondale and could not believe the devastaion that was evident everywhere. For the Haarlem farmers, who made a living growing veggies on their one acre plots, mostly potatoes, onions and pumpkins, it was a hard blow, as there was just nothing left of their crops, and thinking of all the hard work that was put into that was a sobering thought. Gary was worried about his apple orchard that was completely under water, as the mud stuck to the trees, and he was afraid of the trees dying. This whole crop on the photo were destroyed by water coming down so fast and in such quantities that it took away anything in the way, and it is hard to believe that this was one big water mass during the flood!
After about two weeks the water had subsided enough to see what happened to the two bridges that was our only way to get out of Haarlem. The one, a very low but sturdy bridge was still intact, but the one leading out of Haarlem on the other side and going to Misgund, a small village some ten kilometers away, was completely washed away. Also the bridge spanning the river just outside Misgund was non existent anymore, so the road to Port Elizabeth was closed off for a long time, and so was the pass to Uniondale, and we had to drive an extra sixty kilometers to get to get there.
I had enough of a leaking roof, and one of the village people told me about Graham, an old thatcher that lived in Haarlem, and was the janitor at the school, whom I promptly asked to come and see if aught could be done about the roof. He was very sure that all it needed was a comb, and he duly arrived one Saturday morning with a huge wooden comblike tool, and like a small wrinkled monkey, he was up the roof like a youngster, although he must have been near to a hundred, and started pushing the thatching upwards with a vengeance.
Had a bally fright that left me a bitty dry throated!  Of my garden there was just about nothing left, even my Thyme and other herbs were washed away, but on walking around the house to the veggy garden,  I have seen a few strawberry leaves trying to break through the muddy deposit, and was busy trying to rescue them, when I heard this shoossy noise, and then saw old Graham slide down the steep roof at one heck of a speed. My bally heart almost stopped, as he was so old, and if he should break a bone, it would be dark days for him. Luckily it was the low wall on the annexe, measuring only about a meter and a half, so his fall was not too dangerous, but oh boy, I got a scare.
Slowly but surely everything returned to normal, and I worked for long hours trying to get my veggy garden going again, and as it was only the beginning of summer, a lot of seedlings were on sale at the garden centres, and I vowed that the first chance I get to get out of Haarlem again, I would buy some, as it would take too long too grow them from scratch.
The moment the bridge was clear, I set out for George to buy paints and varnish to redo the floor where the mud did such a good job of wrecking all my hard work. The good rain also did wonders for my Lavatêra tree that was outside the range of the water coming down, and it shot up like mad, thinking it was some kind of Jack's beanstalk relative! But worst was the kikuju grass that just took over everything in its way, leaving me anxious as to what to do, as taking it out would take forever, and the more I took out, the faster it grew! That is one of the problems I had to face when I came back from Scotland, as the bally kikuju should be outlawed everywhere.
Making veggy beds was quite an issue, as the water had taken away a lot of the topsoil, leaving a deposit of a mixture of about 20% soil, and 80% clay, so I had to dig it all out, and put together a mixture that would at least allow the veggies to grow roots. I needed a lot of compost, and my own wasn't enough, so I resorted to my trusted co-op to help me out.