Ek loop al hoe lank rond met die gedagte om ‘n blog te begin.  Toe ‘n vriendin my van hare vertel het ek besluit om die bul by die horings te pak.

Die vraag wat mens altyd besig hou is natuurlik waarmee begin jy?  Hoe betree jy hierdie effens intimiderende wêreld?  Ek het so bietjie op ‘n ander website rondgespeel, maar dis nie geskik vir blogging nie.  Dus gaan ek kortpad neem en ietsie plaas wat daar reeds verskyn het.  

“That spring blood” geskryf Dinsdag 30 Oktober 2007

It’s October. It’s raining. Flowers are bursting forth with that silent trumpetcall that rushes through your veins. The dream fades…

Then you look at the mountian and cower behind a wall. Where is the spring sun’s warmth? The colours are beautiful, cascading down the mountain. But something is all wrong…

The spring call comes from thousands of miles away, pulling at your being. Like a bird you want to spread your wings and follow that lingering touch. South. South. Going back south! Wait for me, I’m coming!

But too late! They have all left…

A smile touches the eyes and tenderness caresses you. Like the animals of the south blood rushes through your veins. It’s time. Listen. The earth awakens from its long slumber. New life is flooding the plains.

Confusion reigns in this heart. The beautiful colours are the last dying throes of the trees. Defiantly brightening the mountains before winter spreads his dark deathly cloak. The biting wind lets you retreat into layers of warmth. The last sign of life the windows to your soul.

But the blood…!