The Cape turtle dove calls the morning in. Heimwee. Nolstagia for a former life, way of being, childhood and then some.
It’s one of those quiet, windless, sunshiny mornings. Not my mood, the weather.
The Malachite sunbird chimes in. Male and female dancing together in one of the Protea family trees. Apt.
I’ve been trying to get up and run 5kms a day. Many a inspiration to have gotten me to this place but merely getting out and on with it has some method to the madness. Showing up or something like that.
I do love how a mountain and a trail near it makes for an adventurous feel without having to stray far from home. The morning had a dusky look and feel to it as the sun hazed out the mountain and plunged into my eyes and onto my skin.
To move. What a privilege.
It’s a small loop from my front door around the property and out along the Reserve fence. The sound of dirt under foot as a rhythmic trance unfolds is priceless. In my mind’s eye I sometimes run alongside Eland on the African plains. Have I got experience in it, no, but my spirit somehow remembers. It’s viceral. Sometimes unbearably so. A life simple and primal. Yearning.
A small amount of running holds big feelings. Grateful.
A tortoise pulls on a piece of grass and gets a fright as I come close. It retracts. Grass tuft still half on the outside of it’s shell. What a wonderful way of protection and safety, a shelter to hide in.
The local Common buzzard launches off the branch and takes a swoop around, gliding in one smooth pattern to land back on it’s perch. Scouting.
The Cape Snow or White everlasting seems to be in bloom. They truly are my favorite. I’ve missed their presence. Their sound, like paper and their name only but a dream.
Nature has her ways.
The morning 5k, not too shabby.
