Think of the South African landscape in winter and the fiery colours of aloes are bound to spring to mind: they grow all over the country and appear in a variety of forms and shades of colour. So ubiquitous are they in the Lowveld region where I grew up that we tended to take their spiky appearance and winter beauty for granted – as we do now in the Eastern Cape.
Aloes have come to mean a lot more to me over the years: our garden at Sheba Gold Mine consisted of various rocky terraces. The one above the driveway had so little soil between the rocks that my mother created a beautiful display of aloes. Most she had collected during our various drives through the countryside, while others my father brought home from places he had visited on the mine. The majority of these were Aloe ferox, which provided a feast for birds and bees during winter.
Even as a little girl, I loved playing between these aloes which – at the time – towered above me, and observing the skinks and spiders that inhabited the stems covered with dried leaves.
Aloes are imprinted on me. Should I ever have to leave this country, I think aloes are high on the list of what I would miss. To me they symbolise hardiness, tenacity, patience, abundance, and resilience. They can survive on their own, and mostly do. In a way, aloes represent independence. While I would never be counted amongst the bravest of people, I have often astounded myself with what I have achieved over the years. Some of these achievements have helped to nurture the quality I value highly in myself: independence.
The seed of independence is as hardy as the aloe plant and has driven me to:
- Attend a university far from home where I knew not a soul. I left there after four years ready to begin my teaching career and having made a lifelong friend who was to become my husband.
- Learn to rock climb – probably the scariest of all my solo undertakings, yet a good way to conquer fear and to learn how to trust others. That activity, along with mountaineering, put me in touch with a group of the most wonderful people I have ever met.
I am akin to an aloe in some ways for I am:
- Steadfast and loyal to the point of stubbornness.
- Prickly at times yet protective of those whom I love and who mean a lot to me.
- Nurturing is in my soul – providing shelter, sustenance, a hug, a shoulder to cry on when the need arises, as well as a listening ear.
- Having moved several times, I am happy to put down my roots wherever my heart is and to make the best of what we have.
As the aloes provide shelter for smaller creatures and their bright blooms attract birds, bees and other insects to share their bounty, so I glow best when surrounded by my growing family. That is when I know that despite the hardships and unexpected hoops I have had to jump through, life has been good to me: I am loved and have plenty of love to offer.
Agree!
My take on aloes:
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Thank you again for this – I enjoy your poems and would love you to write more!
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“Having moved several times, I am happy to put down my roots wherever my heart is and to make the best of what we have.” – I can relate to this sentence of yours Anne! Never thought of it like that! Love the aloes too!
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If you too have moved, you will be familiar with the proverb “Home is where the heart is”. 🙂
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Absolutely! Been in 7 schools! 🤓
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Such a beautiful piece of writing about aloes and yourself, Anne!
And that image from Royal Natal has me wishing I wasn’t in Pretoria right now…
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Thank you, Dries. There are so many places to explore in this beautiful country of ours!
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You have taken much from a splendid plant
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Thank you for your appreciation, Derrick.
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I am with Derrick! Such a striking, resilient plant to take inspiration from. We have nothing like that in Maine, that’s for sure.
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We are blessed with a wide variety of these blooms all over the country during the otherwise drab winter months 🙂
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You are also a spark of color during drab days!
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That is kind of you, Joy. Thank you very much.
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I love seeing the Aloes in bloom… Southern California has introduced many A. ferox, which look so pretty blooming in late winter. Nice post, Anne!
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Thank you Eliza.
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I am not like an aloe then as I tried rock climbing but found it far too frightening. 🙂
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I was never very good at rock climbing and gave it up after my children were born 🙂 Walking is a far safer form of exercise.
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I am with you on that.
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The first photo is particularly beautiful, we only see aloes at the florist. A reflective post, Anne, very nice indeed.
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Thank you for your kind comment. We are spoiled for choice every winter as there are many varieties of aloes that come into bloom over a long period.
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Lovely analogy Anne!
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I am pleased you can make the connection, Joni 🙂
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I love how you have enumerated what the aloes mean to you. Rock climbing can be scary, I guess! My son has done some climbs.
It was nice reading about you. 🙂
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Thank you for reading this piece – a little out of my comfort zone – and for enjoying it.
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I always regard it as a privilege when someone trusts enough to reveal the depths of who they are. You have read Marianne Williamson? She expresses this beautifully.
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I haven’t, but she looks worth reading so thank you for that recommendation.
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How lovely to have been afforded the opportunity to learn a little more about who you are, Anne – the dexterity with which you have woven some of who you are, in sync with what the aloe represents to you, is profound.
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You are very kind. This one was a long time coming 🙂
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