Showing posts with label landscapes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label landscapes. Show all posts

Thursday, July 29, 2021

Another windpomp and a dam

W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

A ‘windpomp’ (windmill) in Magaliesburg. They are such a part of our countryside here in South Africa and they play a specially important part in dry areas like the Karoo where both humans and animals are very dependent on them for water. 

These windmills extract the life blood of the earth and it is usually poured into a cement dam close-by the windpomp. Many farm children swim in these cement dams on sweltering days and I have seen flocks of Egyptian Geese taking a quick, cool dip on their way to somewhere.

Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Autumn song

 
W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

Monday, July 26, 2021

It was still winter

W & N Watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm – no preliminary sketching 

It was still winter – freezing in Tarlton (South Africa) and it had actually just started drizzling. At first I thought it was sleet, but at closer inspection found it was a solid drizzle, and everything was going to be set for a very cold and frosty night! The winter of 2011 seemed to be the coldest we’ve experienced for some years, but you know what they say about a long winter,

’Sunshine’s smile does come my friends,
and a cruel callous winter makes for a balmier summer!’

Sunday, July 25, 2021

Enjoying summer

 W&N watercolour on Bockingfo9rd 300gsm 

At this time of year I really enjoy the silhouettes of the trees and hedges against the summer sky.
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Saturday, July 24, 2021

The colour of Winter is in the imagination

W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

A winter scene in South Africa.

Clear blue skies and trees scorched by veld fires is a familiar sight here in South Africa in winter. With just a few more weeks of cold, we’re looking forward to the August winds which will quickly blow in Spring, bringing everything to life again.

The colour of springtime is in the flowers, the colour of winter is in the imagination.
~Terri Guillemets


Wednesday, July 21, 2021

And the tree asks, "Why am I here?"

Winsor&Newton watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

Every branch shaking, shifting, and falling in the icy wind,
A tiny leaf at the very end holds strong,
Why am I here, questioning wondering waiting, for that final pulse that will blow him down?
But in that tree was a force, a force of life, a force of strength, a force unmatched by the icy wind.
That tree was a young tree, a tree that never crossed roots with wild bushes,
Bore fruits desired by many, tasted by few and discarded by the very planter,
Questioning why am I here, questioning is this the only way,
Now the broken branch begins to fall, now this tree was not very tall,
No other tree was like this tree, this tree was special,
This tree was bearing the strain of an icy wind,
Just as the branch had hit the ground there was silence all around a calm in the drifting storm
Now this was rare, a tree this young, a tree this strange, a neglected tree, a tree with shallow roots, a tree with hollow bark had survived the storm.
Questioning why me?
This tree was a lonely tree,
this tree knew he would grow strong,
weak body strong thoughts kept the tree unmoved on broken paths.
Extract from “A tree” – Emmanuel Mohanlall

Monday, October 27, 2014

The last signs of Winter

 
W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm 

The last signs of winter still lingering – a row of scorched wooden fencing that now needs replacing…

Sunday, October 19, 2014

A windpomp in South Africa

Ink sketch and W&N watercolour on Bockingford 300gsm

The first records found of a windpump in South Africa, is from a painting drawn in 1848. Records were found of windpumps as from 1869 and the first import was in 1874. These were wooden constructions. The first all steel windpump was patented in 1855 in England.

Die windpomp

…en vurig en fier soos oor ‘n kleintandooi
die kop geolie en die stert bloedrooi
staan ons ou slyttand met ‘n nuwe rug
oor die jongste boorgat opgerig
-- Uittreksel uit ’n gedig deur Leon Strydom

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