Karoo

When Son#2 was still small-ish, we went to South Africa, the four of us, Son#3 not even an idea at that stage.
We first visited friends in Stellenbosch, then drove along the route 62, staying in hotels along the way, to end up at my parents' in Port Elizabeth.

The husband and I left the boys at my parents' for a weekend, then drove to Graaff Reinet, staying in a lovely but expensive hotel.
The next morning, we drove to Nieu-Bethesda, a tiny spit of a place, but known for its Owl House, 40 km along a dirt road.
We bought a windpump (not a windmill) that my dad so lovingly packed for the trip back up north.
It's still in the garden.

This is not my picture, I don't know who it belongs to, but we lost all our pictures from that holiday, I think.

 

On the way back, a storm whipped up behind us.
Spectacular scenes of dark clouds warring with light, the winds sluicing the clouds into the enormous beams of sunlight, and the husband and I stopped the car to stare at this magnificent display.
Awestruck.

I miss that today:  The dry, sparse simplicity of the Karoo.
Life is hard, but everything seems clear. 
And to have clarity...
Everyone should experience it in their lifetime.
Be still in it.
 

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