You make my heart sing! You make everything groovy. Wild thing! Ok, you ask, what happened? Let me tell you.

Driving along the other day, Colin was saying that I really need to stop writing so much about sheep and cattle. Do you want people to believe that we live rather rural? That we are Country Bumpkins? But Colin, I said, we do, and we are, and if I were you, I would slow down. Why Colin asked? Because there is a peacock in the road, I said. Colin was ready to argue with me, but somehow a peacock is not something you can miss easily. Yup. It was a close shave. Imagine calling our insurance and explaining how it came about that we were involved in a hit-and-run with a peacock. So then, the next morning, as we were about to cross the narrow bridge on Karwyderskraal Road, and I asked Colin to slow down, this time he did not argue.

After almost two weeks of not seeing my favourite herd of dairy cows, there they were. Crossing the bridge at their leisure. There was a time in my life when I used to get excited about a promotion, a bonus or trip overseas. Nothing wrong with that. It is still worth getting excited about (depending of course when you ask.) But bumping into my favourite ladies? The moment was priceless. We pulled over, and Colin got his camera out. As soon as I could, I sent some photos to my tribe. My SPF (that is my Short Portuguese Friend, who incidentally became a Granny very recently), immediately replied: did you see how they look at you? So I went back to the photos, and yes, they were looking at me.

Oh, Look Whipped Cream, I could almost hear them say, it is her again. That strange lady with the Angora Goat hairstyle. Have you noticed her always slowing down when she sees us? Gosh. We have not seen her in a while. Do you think she changed dairies? Don’t be silly, Butter Portion, Whipped Cream retorts. Have you seen how flat chested she is? No diary will take her on. There is nothing to attach the milking machine to, and Whipped Cream wiggles her ample udder about proudly. But she does look ready for shearing. Must be winter, have you seen how woolly her legs look, Butter Portion. The two ladies sauntered by, followed by Full Cream. Full Cream, who must be a bit nearsighted, comes right up to the window and leaves an imprint on the window. Oh Moooo, she says. Yes, it is indeed her. Come over here Clarified Ghee, you have to see this for yourself. And there I was. Greeting each of my ladies like a long-lost friend. Two weeks is a long time. I missed them. The delay on the bridge? It felt like 2 minutes, but it must have been 20, and once again I was late for my appointment. So, to not sound too rural, I blamed my lateness on traffic. I am sorry that I am late. There was a lot of unexpected traffic on the road.

The next day, Colin says he has good news for me. Oh wow. We all like good news. Let me guess. You landed that big project you have been working on. No? OK. The builder called. The roof is finally going up! No? I am running out of good news topics here. Help me out. Turns out, Colin had spoken to the farmer, and he will be moving his sheep back to the field across the road from the house. Colin thought that would make me happy. Happy, I asked? I am in rural heaven. Not only are my favourite Ladies back, but I am also getting the sheep back. That night I fell into blissful sleep, counting sheep.

But there is good news in all this after all. Our Mountain House will soon have a roof on it. Colin spent many an evening looking at wood colours for the roof trusses. We have a once off opportunity to get the colour right, he said. In the end, the perfect colour was not that easy to get hold of, but Colin made a plan and a few days later a courier delivered the perfectly coloured tins of wood stain. Monday, I bumped into an acquaintance. They were in Betty’s Bay at the weekend and took the chance to see if they could find our house, which they did. They liked the setting; they liked the view. The building is beautiful, the stonework is amazing, but what is it with all the green wooden planks all over the place? Oh dear. Colin’s perfectly researched wood colour just got called green, Good thing he is not a cow. His milk would have curdled. This may take a while, but he will get over it.

Going up the mountain and looking at how far we have come is quite a moment. At times, we also realise how much must still be done, and that is overwhelming. On our drive back to Botrivier, we try to calm our nerves by telling ourselves how far we have come, how beautiful the place we find ourselves in. We count all the many blessings that have come our way. We detour sometimes to the penguin colony and have a good laugh at all the penguins going about their very important business. We drive home over the little bridge, we look out for the dairy cows, we wonder where on earth that peacock come from. We shoo the guinea fowl away from the gate.

In the past couple of days, there is yet another thing to distract us. Everyone knows about the West Coast and its flowers. Last year we took a special trip to go see the flowers. Our stretch of coast has its own floral attraction, and they are just popping out every here and there. This year, we are a little more educated and know what to look out for. The first signs of spring are also in the air.

And to co-inside with Spring’s arrival, will be the arrival of Youngest Son, his Little One and Oreo. Yes. Indeed. They are joining us down here and will be living not too far from the other brother in Somerset West. I feel like that Mother Duck when she said:

I may not have all my ducks in a row, but at least I have them in the same pond. As for that peacock? We have no idea where he came from.