The second time the tractor came we had everything ready, the pipes were lifted to safety, all the branches were taken out of harms way, and the tractor driver was smiling, and told me that now he could do his job correctly! I loved watching as the huge weeds and kikuju grass were ploughed out and then mashed, as the driver had brought a different kind of plough, which he said was better for the virgin state of my soil!
In the meantime I had got the onion seeds, and had decided to sow some of it in containers to be planted out later, and the others directly into the land.
It said on the package that it could be sown directly, but Bush refused to do that, as he reckoned we would loose to many seedlings when it started sprouting. So I let him do it his way, as he had to do all the work of course. The seeds I got was a winter onion called Texas Grand, as it could withstand extreme frosty conditions. Well I hoped so, as it was now getting really cold, and we had our first light frost of the winter.
It is a wonderful world we live in, as while the ploughing was going on, birds of many kinds descended on the ploughed land, and merrilly pecked away at the insects, I do not know which, that was exposed.
When Bush came back from his job at Ronalee's, he was very chuffed, and his smile almost went right round his head. 'Yea,' he smiled, ' now we will get rich! Maybe I can then buy a better car!'
Now Bush, although he had no driver's license as yet, was taxying some of the villagers to and from Uniondale, our nearest town on Saturday mornings.I heard many tales of this, and one woman told me that it took hours, as Bush was driving at about twenty kilometers an hour. Then one day I saw his car had a big dent on the side, and he told me that he went off the road in the pass, but none of his passengers had been injured.
I warned him not to do the taxi thing, as he could be put into jail for murder or manslaughter if he had an accident without a license, and anybody died, but he just went his own way!
 Anyhow, he said that he would come the next afternoon to make the beds in which the seeds could be sown.
 I went to a shop in Misgund, and started talking to the owner, telling her about the venture, and she said she would definitily buy onions from me when they are ready. Waau! That was indeed soul lifting!

I woke up early, and was lying in bed with my cuppa, watching the small Honeybirds sticking long beaks into the bright red flowers in front of the window. It is as always just so wonderful to watch this beautiful blackbacked, red and green breasted little birds, because while they take the nectar out, they flutter their wings like mad, as they do not sit on the plant, but hover in the air.
But suddenly their was a lot of frightened chirping, and the little birds just flew off helter skelter. I jumped out of bed, wondering whether it was a snake, or a cat that had made them take off so fast. At first I couldn't see anything, but then I saw a ginger tail swaying from side to side behind a big Agapanthus, and knowing that Sheila's cat was on the prowl again, I made for the kitchen where I keep my catapult, my mind set on really injuring the blasted cat.
The thing is, I plant different shrubs and flowers that bloom at different times of the year, so that the birds that come to my garden always have nectar. And then the bally cats scare them away, and I have on different occasions found the feathers of a bird, and wondered why the cats could not have a go at catching the moles, this pests almost taking over my garden.
Today the tractor was coming to plough, and I was quite excited. However I did not expect it to come so very early, but I was still in my pajamas when I heard the roar of a big engin, and then a tooter being blown at the gate, so I donned my waterboots, and made haste to open the gate, as I was informed that the tractor was on a tight schedule.

The guy looked the place over, and told me that the branches that was lying where Bush had felled the last tree had to be taken away, as he could not plough with that in his way. So, while the driver was fiddling with the tractor that sounded like it did not want to work so early in the morning, I was dragging the heavy branches up to the fence, and out of harm's way.
 Then we noticed that Bush had never taken up and put the irrigation hoses away, and as this was thick and heavy, I was quite daunted, as by now my breathing was heavy, and the old legs quite lame, and there was a lot of branches still to move.
I ran over to see whether Bush was still home, as he worked for my neighbor, Ronalee, some days, but he was gone, and I was frantic! And hot! And Tired!
The tractor man then said that he would rather come back on the Monday, as we were wasting time, as he had only an hour.So I waved him goodbye, and had a fresh, warm coffee, and panting for quite some time. My nice fluffy pajamas was covered in pieces of wood, and leaves, and dirt! Great!

My plans to become a producing farmer, was coming along just fine. Bush had asked me whether we could work out a plan, in which I give the ground, the money and the seeds, and he would then do all the work, and in the end we would split the profit. I thought it a very workable plan, as Bush is a very reliable kind of Zimbabwean, who have nothing left really in Zimbabwe, and is trying to make a living here.
But before the tractor could come and do the ploughing, a lot of the Black Wattle trees, which are invaders, had to be felled, and that of course was Bush's job. He worked like a lunatic, felling the trees, then axed off the branches before bringing it up to store next to the house. And all the time he was smiling broadly, and kept on telling me that we were going to become very rich indeed. I think for the poverty stricken Zimbabweans, it would be riches indeed if they had a hundred dollars in their pockets!
The black Wattle's wood make for very nice firewood, as it is a hard wood that burns quite slowly. It was just a pity that it was still wet, as the winter had already arrived, and I needed wood promptly.
I have now moved down to the bottom bedroom, firstly because a mouse had died in my roof just above my bedroom, and the smell was so bad that I could not even enter the room. Nor could I found the mouse's body, as I am a bitty scared nowadays to climb around in the rafters, my legs and body not as supple and strong as it used to be!!
But I found the bottom bedroom so sunny and bright in the early mornings, as the two windows let the wonderful winter sun peep through the glass, covering the room in blissful warmth! Just absolutely wonderful, and I find it very hard to lift my lazy bones from the bed! I don't think I will be moving back, although this room was quite far from the kitchen.
The tractor in the meantime was paid, as it had to be done beforehand, people here not always so willing to pay after the job was done, and that is according to the tractor driver. As I said before, the tractor belonged to the people of haarlem, and the amount payable is really very small. So now it is just a case of Bush clearing the trees, before the man would come.

it was winter now, and bitterly cold. although most of South Africa has a summer rainfall, the Western cape has a winter rainfall.. And with the cold and the rain, also comes the leaking through my roof, and it is a horrible feeling to wake up during the night with icy cold and wet feet, or a wet face! So the past few days I have been busy trying to combat the rain from dripping onto self and furniture, and had come up with one very good idea, or so I thought!When Irma moved to Belgium, she left a lot of her paintings, and some valuable furniture with me for safe keeping, and as my house is as small as a Barbie house, (well almost) I was getting frustrated with this huge paintings leaning against walls all over, as I have a blue small toe, and that toe was aching like the blazes, and if it wasn't painful enough after the first time I caught it on one of the paintings, I bally well kept on bumping it all over the place.
So then a brilliant idea struck me, and I was quite amazed at the old self because of my brilliance! I was going to put hooks into the frames of the paintings, and corresponding ones into the rafters, then hoist the paintings up, and hang them upside down from my sitting room'srafters so that one could view it from that angle. Into the back of this paintings I was going to put plastic, and on that I was going to put buckets to catch the water!.
So off to the Co-op I went, and bought the needed hooks. Back home the ladder was fetched and positioned underneath where the first painting would be hoisted up! Then I stated sweating, and groaning, and also did a wee bit of swearing, as only I can when really in distress, because  to get a brilliant plan is okay, but to actually do the job is another story altogether! To get a painting with a heavy frame of about a meter by sixty cm up to the rafters, and holding it up with one hand while trying to interhook the hooks on the painting, and the ones on the rafters, proved to be quite impossible. But an old proverb in South Africa says, ''n boer maak 'n plan',meaning a farmer always makes a plan, and as I sat outside in the winter sun, totally exhausted and very much at a loss, the obvious solution suddenly came to me. I would put lengths of twine through the hooks, and hoist the bally things up by that, shortening the twine first on one side, then the other.
It worked a treat, but it took me the whole day to hoist up four paintings, and left me with about five bumps on my head that was made every time the twine slipped, and of course I was directly underneath.
There were some more paintings that I could hoist up in my bedroom, but I was a bitty wary of my sore head, and decided to wait a while as to work up some courage again!
My garden still looked quite nice, and as the front door plants were a bit protected, I still have some beautiful colour to enjoy when I sit on my little bench having my breakfast!

After bush had given me a good talking to about me not using my available ground as it should be used, I have decided to give it a go, and have the land ploughed, so that Bush and self can start growing crops for the market. But before we could start, the black Wattle trees had to be removed, a job that fell to Bush! Luckily!
Haarlem is a strange community, very close knit, and with a good knowledge of what is theirs. The huge dam that provides the village with water was built by the farmers in conjunction with the community, and as George municipality found out when they tried to take over the dam and provide other villages with water,  this people will not be trodden on. We were under the Eden district municipality for the past umpteen years, but then the Government decided to put us under the George municipality, just to find that all their conniving did not get them free usage of the dam's water.
There is a great shortage of water in the Eastern cape, as people are brought in continuously from the rural districts, and just put down everywhere, without anybody ever thinking of where jobs and housing, and specially water would come from. But the goverment says that to many coloured people have jobs in the Western cape, so it has to be corrected. As there were no black people on this coastline until the early 1900's, it is so unfair, as the coloured people are descendants of the Bushmen and 'Strandlopers', who are endemic to this part of South Africa. This means that the already impoverished coloured people around here will have even less of a future to look forward to.
As I am now part of this community, I am entitled to irrigation water, so for me not to make use of it is silly, and as I would also provide work for a few people when it came to harvesting, I think it will be a good project. A lot of people are seasonal workers, and would be glad for a job to tide them over until the next season.
We have decided that I would give the land, pay for the tractor and the seeds, and everything needed, and Bush will do the planting, weeding, and look after the harvesting.
The tractor that will be doing the ploughing also belong to the Haarlem community, and you pay only a small fee to have your ploughing done.

I am quite sad, as in a few days it would be a year since Nina died, leaving her family in tatters! My little Emil who was only five weeks old when his mother died,has now grown into a very mischievous and busy little toddler, and it takes some doing to look after him. He again managed to escape from Berty, his nanny, crawled through the gate, and I found him running after Sheila's cows that was going home to be milked, shouting 'moo! moo!' Must say, I had a shock, as it is dangerous, as the cows could easily get annoyed, and trample him, or they could just be unaware of the little one, although Kevin, their keeper, was keeping an eye.
 I told Jan to have a good talk with Berty, and unplug the television, as she got so involved in what is on the tv, that she seemed to forget about her charge!

It is amazing how city dwellers just overlook all that is so dear to me here on my little paradise. Well, they don't see it as paradise, and I was waiting in quite a bit of panic for my best friend of many years to arrive. Thus far she had refused to come to Haarlem, as she was afraid of the snakes, the rats, the lack of amenities, and a whole list of other, insignificant things. But she had just lost her husband, and although living in a complex for older people, she was extremely lonely.
So Steven, her son, decided to bring her to visit me for a few days while he was conducting some bussiness in the Eastern cape, as I was just a little out of his way.
As luck would have it, a herd of horses were grazing in front of the gate, and when my guests eventually arrived, the horses left in haste, as Steven lustily applied his tooter. Whether from haste or disgust, or maybe fright, the horses left a few heaps of very aromatic dung steaming in the cold evening air.
I watched from where I was busy unlocking the gate, and screamed at Edythe to look out for the dung that was directly underneath her door. She hastily slammed the door, and as I neared the car, I saw that her eyes were darting everywhere, and they were as big as saucers.
Steven in the meantime had left the car and was making his way gingerly towards me, a fixed smile on his face, and his eyes on the heaps of dung that was still steamimg, trying to not step into it. I told him to drive the car inside the gate, and he made his way back, trying his best not to step into a dungheap!
Edythe in the meantime thought that I had seen a monster on its way to eat her up, and she refused to leave the car, so panicky that she didn't hear when I explained that she was about to put her foot into a dungheap!
After a lot of cajoling, as she was now set to go with Steven and stay in a guest house, I convinced her that it was quite safe to get out, as I was still with the living, as she could see!
Once inside she calmed down, and I prayed that no nosy rain spider would decide to see who was calling, and ome down to greet the guests, as this spiders almost grew as big as my hand. But either they were too cold to leave the thatch, or they realised that it might be dangerous, but no spider appeared!
I cooked a meal from fresh veggies out of my garden, and as I had told them that, I was a bitty disconcerted when Steven then asked me what I do during the day to keep myself busy! Thinking of self hunting down moles, shooting cats and peacocks with my catapult, weeding, keeping house, painting, and at the moment crocheting bags for the market, I almost gave him a funny answer, but as he was my guest, I just smiled.
Bedtime came, and Edythe went into a state of terror, as she was sure that some harm will become her overnight. I had to use all my wit to try and convince her that no giant snake would crawl down and devour her, and that no rat as big as a cat existed, and that the spiders were all cosily ensconced between the thatch.
It was after midnight when I had seen her into her bed, after getting the torch and shining it all over the thatch, to see if there was no googa (bug) or other nasties.
The next morning she was heavy eyed, and I knew that she might not have slept at all, but as Steven had left before seven, she had to make peace with her having a holiday in Haarlem. I just can not understand that people could be so full of phobias and fantasies, and if I did not know Edythe, I would not believe that such people existed at all! I suppose that if you have never been on a homestead like mine, where I have only the necessary amenities, and lots of fauna, you have to get used to it first.

The winter was now starting to chase away the last of the nice and warm summer days, and I have taken out all my warm stuff to ward of the cold. As my little cottage is built of stone, and has  a thatched roof, it was beautifully cool during the scorching summer days, but oh boy, come winter and I want to fly away with the swallows. The fact that the floors are cement does not help, and I bought myself a pair of thick woolen moccasins to try and keep my poor legs and feet from feezing.
One of the apple farmers told Jan that he also had stone floors, and to keep his family from freezing, he had bought a few electric blankets, and this were then positioned underneath the carpets wherever they sat most of the time, and apparently it worked like a bomb! So when I go to George again, I will look out for a couple of these.
The past summer was actually very rewarding, as I had plenty of veggies from my garden. That is of course after I got a lot of old tyres, and planted everything in that. Works like magic, as I put fine chicken mesh underneath so that the moles had no chance to tunnel away the soil from the roots! It is amazing the damage this little scoundrels can reek in one's garden.
One thing however that just does not wilt, fall over or just die when it suddenly feel the soil being removed from under it's roots., is the small cherry tomato. I do not know how, but in spite of tunnels running criss cross around and underneath it, this plants just thrive, and I had a bumper crop of tomatoes, so many that I was able to give nice organic tomatoes to my city dwelling, organic food drprived friends to enjoy!
I also had a bumper crop of butternuts, spinach, and rocket. This little plant, the rocket that is, is also very hardy, and defied all the onslaughts of the moles. I love to walk in my garden, pick a few rocket leaves, wrap it around a warm, sunbaked tomato, and eat it! Delicious! There are still hundreds of tomatoes on the plants, but I have decided to pick it to see if it would ripen in the house, as I think it is too cold outside now. I have put all the ripe ones into containers in the deepfreeze, and just take out a handfull when I need them.
My other friend, or rather foe, Sheila's peacock had, I think, enough of this mad human attacking it with her catapult, and walks rings around my garden now. If I think back on how this things destroyed my strawberries and other stuff, I have no sympathy when I start with my catapult, and jumps up and down with glee when I manage to get a hit. Of course I don't use big stones, but they are so dumd, they never worked out that my stones could not hurt them really. I have now planted broad beans, spinach, and some cabbage plants, and if the snails don't get to it, hopefully I would have at least some fresh veggies during the winter.
But I am all ready to survive, as I had canned all kinds of stuff, including butternuts!

I saw Danny, a guy living across the road a bit up dawdling in front of my gate, so I went out to hear what he wanted, as the main gate is now kept locked. Now Danny is known as a bit of a night time dealer in stolen goods, and many nights I have heard trucks stopping at his hose, and unloading stuff. One night I peeped through the window and saw our co-op truck unloading stuff, and the next morning early I watched Danny drive off with a loaded truck. I have once reported this to the police, but nothing was ever done about it. I am more clever now, and know that, according to the locals, some of the local police are in cahoots with the ruff and scuff of the village, and Berty, Emil's nanny, and other people have warned me not to meddle, as the culprits could become very spiteful.
Anyway, Danny said he was just looking at some old car mats that Jan had thrown out, and asked if he could take it.
They are such funny people, as he then told me how bad things were, and him with seven kids! Looking at the big pear tree behind him that was laden with beautiful pears, just ripening, I asked him why they did not pick the fruit, as that is a source of fresh food for his kids, but his eyes darted in all directions, and he mumbled a lot of uninteligible noncense but did not answer my question. I then told him that I can every bit of fruit that ripened on my trees, and he looked at me with big eyes, and asked me how that was done, so that he could enlighten his wife. On me insisting that his wife should know how to can fruit, he said no, she definitely did not know. So I described the process in detail to him, and told him that I had a lot of bottles if he wanted to send the kids over.
With a huge smile he told me that the kids would be sent to pick the fruit after school, and he would send them over for some bottles. I hoped that he would do it, for I saw the previous year how that lovely fair rotted on the tree.
It is now three weeks later, a few pears are still hanging on the tree, while the rest lay on the ground. He never sent the kids to pick it, neither to come to me for bottles! Strange people, who are always pleading poverty, but did nothing that is too strenuous to harvest the fruit that is so abundant in Haarlem.

So many things were happening in my life, and none of them really to my advantage, or my disadvantage. I had my hands full with the baby Emil, who actually was a toddler now, and since he started to walk, he had to be under constant observation. My place was definitely not toddler proof, as the small stream running past my front door could be a hazard to his life if he should fall into it.
Berty, his nanny, was not the liveliest of beings, and he kept on running away from her. She was usually so busy watching a television programme that she hardly noticed that he was away, and sometimes very surprised when I took him back. I spoke to Jan about it, as I was not at all happy with her sense of duty.
But it was so cute when the white haired Emil came wobbling over the grass and stones, his face screwed up in concentration not to fall, as it took some doing for those short bendy legs to stay upright. He knew exactly where the cookie bin was, and would walk straight towards it, with a huge grin, stating shortly and sweetly that he wanted 'mum'. Mum in Danish means food, and everything going into his little tummy was called 'mum'.
I however had a bit more time for my garden and house now, and had started to clear away all the weeds, and specially the kikuju grass. The grass had terrible roots, coiling up deep underground, and  to get it out was not a job for the weak or the timid. But as it took a day to dig out a span of about two meters, and my garden part almost a quarter of a hectare, I was soon beaten, and just had not the strenght to carry on.
So I decided to spray the grass with a weed killer that Jan said only stayed poisonous for forty eight hours, and did not harm the insects. For my part I wished it did kill the undesireable animals, not all, but the bally moles that was reeking havoc everywhere, and the grasshoppers that chewed lustily on my cabbages and other greens.The weed killer, called round-up, did indeed kill off the grass, but the the roots were so tough that I still could not get it out.
Therefor I decided to burn the dead grass, hopeful that the heat would also kill the roots, or at least turn it to ashes.
BIG mistake! As it was not a huge part of the garden that I wanted to burn, I filled the gieter (watering can) with water to douce the flames if it tried to run over into the rest of the place! But my little gieter with water was not up to the inferno that rocked up the moment I put a match to the first clump, as the flames just shot up, about a meter into the sky, and I ran like something demented to try and kill the flames! But emptying the contents of my watering can over the flames was like a raindrop in a dam, and as the irrigation water-outlet was too far, I was running between the kitchen and the fire, my face burning, and my eyes streaming from the smoke.
Luckily for me there was some green grass on the other side of the fence, that weakened the flames, and I managed to put the fire out!
But my beautiful shrubs and other things were all burned badly, and I cursed myself for a stupid woman!
I was actually very lucky, as my fields were dry, and so was the surrounding area, and it could have been very bad if it got out of hand and into the mountains!