Hilda's diary of a Cape housekeeper

The best spring months are September and October, when flowers appear everywhere as if by magic ; no one can imagine what the wealth of flowers is who has never seen it ! Among them, the crimson gladiolus, the proteas of all kinds, the aigrettje or little aigrette, and hundreds more. The hills overlooking Groote Poste are scented of an evening with lovely sprays of avond bloemetje, or evening flowers ; the petals are red outside, and stiffly closed by day, and open their white faces as the sun sets. As you rode over those hills, the soft fragrant scent was wafted to you. The lovely view of sky and ocean reached to Table Mountain, so clearly defined in the distance, and every now and then a revolving light from one of the lighthouses could be clearly seen at the distance of forty miles as the crow flies ; then down in the verdant valley nestled the dear old home, with its many gables, whitewashed as is common in the Cape Colony — all this has formed an indelible picture in my mind’s eye, and I see it clearly now ! On the western side of the farm, stretching towards the Atlantic, the veldt is more sandy ; gazanias in all their brilliant colours ; mesembryanthemums — bright red and orange ; nemesias in softer tints ; big bushes of cinerarias, delicate masses of blue and mauve and white, in fact, every shade and tint meets the eye, and, oh, how one does thank God who has made all things beautiful ! During these months every family in this hospitable neighbourhood would fill their houses with friends and relatives from the town and suburbs. Picnics to the seaside were always popular ; some of us had an eight-mile drive over a very rough road (but no one seemed to mind that ! ), and some went on horseback. Well, the day is lovely, all the good things have been packed and the big hampers put on our novel drag, a great farm buck-wagon, such as is used for “ transport riding,” and has been turned into a comfortable conveyance by soft seats made of bags filled with straw, and covered with rugs. We liked this better than any other cart or wagon, as a party of ten or twelve could get into it. It was drawn by ten horses, as the road to this lovely spot down in a sheltered cove of the Atlantic, called “ The Grotto,” is rather heavy. The party gradually settle into their seats — those on horseback get mounted — and the whole cavalcade starts with peals of laughter and exclamations of delight ! The driver, one of our best farm whips, and my brother on the box. Suddenly one of the house- hold would have a moment’s agony lest some one had forgotten some important part of the goodies. “Oh, B., are you sure that is put in ? ” is the anxious question ! Well, says the man on the box, “we cannot stop now So we subside, trusting that nothing has been forgotten, and on goes the merry party.