We are giving it our all. Mark and I have lived 10 years in
the last 2, never a day without something out of the ordinary happening, it’s
like living an Adventure on steroids. Not that we were ever your typical adventure
bunnies, more like venturous souls at times when and how it suited us. I was mostly
planning our calendar ahead, knowing what’s coming with little interference in
our time, unless it was mostly appointed. We were totally private and carefree in
our anonymity once our little castle’s gates were closed and the high walls
shielded us from our neighborhood’s busyness. We had a small, neat, organized
and mostly easy life in the city, carefully going about our lives and taking
care of ourselves, doing just about everything together, especially cooking
together at night
Here Mark has become the farmer he is. Everywhere I look I see
his green heart and hands. Broken skin, bruises, dirty calluses, dirtier ripped
nails, rough hands, we have both aged quickly here. Our bodies are used heavily
and the injuries are just stupid and way out. Of course, Mark has only 2 hands and
his hands are also my hands, which often brings a conflict of work-interest
about, when I want sparre erected to visually
create a fence, he wants to in-bed meticulous small seeds one by one before the
season changes yet again. By the time he comes into the house and wants to know
what’s there to eat, I am normally in the middle of something and have lost my
appetite as I’v just finished cooking and feeding our 3 dog-children. Then he
gets dog food, that is Woester sauce
chicken, carrots and pumpkin, rice mixed in. Gone are the nights cooking,
drinking wine and canoodling together, what can I say? Many nights biltong, cheese
and crackers kept us going
First there was mist for 3 days, 32mm of falling mist….
Followed by 68mm of thundering hard night-rain, blinding lightening and sheer
flooding destruction. For 2 hours we were ecstatically scared, we could hear
the stumps and rocks coming down the mountain with the water, blasting and breaking
as gravity pulls it to earth. The rain-scape lights up in silver white and greys,
the smell of drenched earth and crushed foliage pushes up in our nostrils, deep
drafts of rain-night air filling our dry lungs, again and again we breathe heavily,
our senses still starved for life giving water after such a long time without. Even
our strong torch is not sharp enough to show the rushing waterfalls that gets louder
and louder. Tons of gallons of water pouring over the familiar mountain face,
unseen by human eyes but clearly heard by our humbled ears
The next morning, we woke up like kids on Christmas morning.
Fly out of bed, grabbed some clothes to get out of the house half decent, running
to see the waterfalls which is
audible from just about anywhere. How could we
have ever imagined to live in a place that sings glory to its Creator by just
letting the water flow? How would we have ever known that coming here, we will behold
the spectacular sight and sound of 3 waterfalls? That crushing water on stone and
more water, draws us as we make our way through wet-wet bush to get to that
point of loud awe. Crystal clear water scattering down, dowsing out our talking
as we got closer. Our eyes gingerly picking out the water course from right up
there, traversing down, tracing the age-old paths funneling their precious gift
between the mountain’s rock face, accelerating until it hits the water
bak below, declaring it’s Victory for
all to hear. Then we see the point of collision…. we stare and gape and look
again, our eyes and minds not nearly big enough to take in the terrible beauty
of falling crushing water….. It is paradise, unequivocal awesome natural beauty,
fantastical waves our senses stagger under…. Unbelievable natural mercy and grace
from His Nature….. overwhelming Living Water, holy ground, our souls exuberantly
alive with a gift we cannot contain
We make our way back through the drop-hugging bushes, to the
second waterfall, which is best seen from the road going to Klipspringer. We come
up to the fountain-dam and the 2 water pipes are both pushing out a thick stream
of slightly orange-brownish mineral water, forcing the abundant gift into an
already brimming dam, just sooooo much goodness. Now we can clearly hear the
second waterfall and hurry to get as close as we can, more difficult as it
flows down into a dense and deep kloofie,
before it furrows out in a ravine of dongas and down to the river at the front
of the farm. Through the binocs it cascades in a spray from one rock to the next
outcrop, disappearing into the thicket. But just as we make our way up the path,
we can hear another rushing and our ears draw us higher up and further on to
the 3rd waterfall. We have never seen it overflowing and only scrambled
the dry bed from the bottom up with the dogs, up to the Old Cattle Trail, and
could not go further as the boulders we just huge and the rock faces too high
Our pants and shoes are sopping wet and so are the dogs, their
coats drenched in all the different types of water we are exploring through. We
make our way up and on the first saddle and can clearly hear the falling water.
It’s unbelievable, so much water, so loud, so fast, so strong…. And then we see
a smaller waterfall through a gap in the bush, and slip-slide down the koppie
to just touch it. Beautiful clear, fresh, rain water streaming and gushing over
the most beautiful colored stones…. We look through the mountain’s water into
the rock pools, those pools that were once bone dry and sacred, made for a sole
purpose - to furrow life-giving water down the mountainous landscape, to a
river that runs to the sea and nourishes everything along its course
The dogs are exuberant in their joy. The are loving every single
bush and tree and grass tuft and can’t contain their excitement more that us. Wagging
tails, hastily sniffing and climbing all around us, up and down the mountain,
also drawn by the gushing water. I have never seen them so alive, I feel so
young. We make our way back up towards the loudest epicenter, climbing hastily,
navigating the Trail behind the dogs. The air we breathe in is green-fresh and
the rising sun casts misty, steaming mountain shadows as we climb in and out of
the bright sun. I simply can’t take enough photos. Up and up we climb, the falling
water now very close and there we are – a huge bak to the left receiving the cascading water and pushing it over
the edge to the 3 bakke on the right,
stepping down the cliff in sequence, and then out of sight. It is so loud we
can’t hear each other
The dogs are everywhere at the same time, also not getting
enough. How utterly beautiful. We stare and sit down. We are quiet and take in
as much as we can, allowing the water to wash over our souls and receiving the
gift of being here now. I shout out His names and bless the farm for His
goodness and Mercy. The unbelief of all of this abundance takes me back in a moment
to the bitter fist fights I had with Him when the drought suffocated us and nature
was dying in front of our eyes. I feel an immediate and immense need to deeply ask
forgiveness for not being able to believe that this could be true, never
imagining how it would be when the water is falling down the mountains. I am stunned
at seeing Him in all of His splendor, bewondered that He is always magnificent
here, even when we are not present. I have never felt so special to be part of
a God-moment as now
