Vanilla

I call bland things "vanilla" or "beige". It is the ultimate descriptive word for stuff that is just, well, kind of "non". I have not written for a week or three. Life got in the way. Simple things such as the eternal struggle to find the eternally fulfilling job. Is is possible? I will not give up the search until I know. In a world where I built my professional reputation on not offending people, things can turn seriously vanilla. Sometimes you just want to shake people, asking them quite seriously: Is there even breath inside of you? Does ANYTHING inside you live?

We had some wonderful rain here in VIC. Masses of it - of course not enough to break the drought, but it brought some fantastic relief for farmers. Everything that was so brown a few weeks ago is now covered in a young and tender green (including the weeds in my front yard). It is a brilliant sight. I have never experienced a magical autumn like this one I spent time in Stellenbosch. My albums are filled with heaps of very bad photographs of vines and vineyards in all shades of red, burgundy, maroon and pink. Beautiful. A bit like it was on the road from Groblershoop to Upington, driving along the hem of the river. Pools of colour for miles on end.

Yes, I do colour. Not vanilla and no artificial colours either.