I slept fitfuly on my first night home. I wondered if Desi would recover. The next morning I was woken by a wet nose and a wagging tail.Breakfast
it said.Desi, recovered with the pack
I took Desi back to the vet as requested. She could not believe the quick recovery. I was given the bill and found that I had just enough left over to pay for her treatment.
I thought long and hard about my gremlins, about the strange happenings. This was the culmination of many catasprophes not mentioned.
Do places carry their own energy, sometimes bringing manevolent forces?
Since moving to the Cradle, there had been a collision of worlds. My mother has stayed with me for a while. She was worried about her crazy daughter, again taking a road less travelled. I had found a site of some strange worship close to my house. Do demonic forces stay around?
I looked at the beauty around me, realising that this was a world untouched by the pretext of civilisation.
On the night of the full moon, the moon closest to the earth, I followed its journey.
It rose, eierily, over a graveyard. Its a graveyard not captured in the photo.
It moved over abandoned labourers cottages. The abandonment so symbolic, like the moon, of constant change.
It seemed to hover, mysteriously, over the site of some place of ritual.
I thought of how this strange, full moon, so close, would not be seen for another 200 hundred years. I would be long gone. What of this place?
It hung in the air, silent, still, yet not still.
I thought of how we fuss over things so futile, all gone... all gone, except for what is carried in an energy far more miraculous and mysterious than we can ever perceive. We can only ever see dimly.
I am reading James Stevenson Hamilton's, "South African Eden". I am again struck at how close Kruger came to never being. He called it "his Cinderella". I am struck by his lack of ego, his total dedication. I am at a point where he is slowly starting to have a sense of mission, of the importance of his work.
Like all of us, he stumbed in darkness.
Why this ending, so philosophic?
Maybe, because the past year has made me very aware of both the gremlins and miracles that greet us each moment.
I think of beauty in all its fragility, its vulnerability and find in Kruger a lived example of the wonder of belief and dedication.