More glimpses ... and more daisies

We found our cottage and after settling in, I left the rugby fanatics gathered around the TV and took off with my camera for a satisfying saunter.  First, a pic of our blue and white B & B, Die Lodge.

When I spoke in an earlier blog about the orange daisies growing everywhere and anywhere, I wasn't exaggerating.  Crammed behind the open gate ...

Growing up through the bricks on the verandah of our cottage ...

Floating in an old cast iron container outside a restaurant ...

and lying in a forgotten bunch on garden table.

Basking in the sun

After driving through fields of multi-coloured flowers we came into the small village of Calvinia, situated at the foot of the dolerite topped Hantam mountains and next to the Oorlogskloof River.  This is an arid area and the spring flower show depends on whether the rains are plentiful.  This year we had arrived either too early or too late and there weren't that many to be seen, but the town more than made up for the lack of flowers. Small houses in traditional white wash and dark green painted woodwork nestle amongst the more modern pastel painted cottages.

A general dealer's shop, familiar to the childhood memories of most children who have grown up in small country villages.

A pretty and surprising sight - roses blooming at the end of winter.

Bath al fresco,  surrounded by orange daisies.

Die Dorphuis (The Town House) a Victorian green and white striped cottage.

 

The bright flashy orange daisies line pavements, street corners and anywhere they can get a toe hold.

 

Pieces of gold

The next day we set off early for Calvinia but first we had to make a stop at one of the local church halls to sample pancakes, Hertzoggies (little jam tarts topped with an egg white and coconut mixture) and to buy knitted gloves with the fingertips cut off to enable photography to continue in the cold.  Apparently owls sleep in the blue gum trees around the church and we were lucky enough to see one directly above us as we leaned against the car,devouring our sweet treats.

Next was the flower reserve outside Nieuwoudtville where drifts of orange-gold Gazanias were scattered all around.

We had to pick our way through very marshy and muddy fields to get to the flowers and looking through my camera lens instead of at the ground, I stepped into a pothole and took a spectacular tumble onto the field.  I later read something about porcupines digging for bulbs, but am not sure if this was what had caused the hole. Seeing I was down there anyway I decided to stay in place and concentrate on the flowers closest to me.

This turned out to be a good idea because I noticed a tiny flower which I would otherwise have missed.  To appreciate how exquisitely small it was, you would have to realise that it was about one-tenth the size of one of the Gazanias.

 

 

 Just as the eye needs a rest from all that orange and yellow you come upon clumps of white Gazanias looking pure and unsullied by mud or insects.

 

Finally, as we left, we came upon this koppie (little hill) with its balancing boulders formed over time by the cooling and weathering  of the of the magma forced up from below ground.

The twilight hour

And so we came to our last evening in Nieuwoudtville at that magical pink and gold time when people head for home and the animals settle down for the night ...

 

and the ducks play "follow my leader" home.

 

 A classic Cape country scene - windmill and bare tree branches silhouetted against the amethyst sky.

Tomorrow we would be on our way to Calvinia.

A last meander

A last saunter around the village back roads and a somewhat prickly incursion into a hedge garnered some worthwhile scenes.

 

 The last rays of sun warming an old farmhouse.