The Langkloof was something magical truly.

Up in the mountains was a hill and on that hill was a hardly bare boned ruin, and this we lovingly called home for quite a few months.

This had been the most offgrid I myself had ever been, were we 8km from the closest road side shop which now doesn't seem like much, those walks had been some of my toughest walk for more than just my physical body and now I could walk that with ease. Thank you to past me for never giving up, because I truly changed up in those mountains.

Days shifted between having to much space, not having enough space and the content comfort in-between.
Days where collecting water down the mountain felt like a calm meditation, and those where I would break down and cry because I couldn't will the strength to do it that day . . .
On those days we cried together, and we got it with laughter through tears, because we still had to collect water and we still had to chop wood.

We had lazy days in front of the fire, after we learned that dead fynbos makes a good enough fire starter even for wetter wood, before that we had nights we got cold.
That's the beauty of life really, you're cold until you figure out how best to keep yourself warm.
We even got to eat potatoes planted before we left.
A place we played in the cloud while sheep grazed, leaving g tufts of wool on the plants, like little dreams and like little dreams we collected them.

Here I learned to communicate and not just talk, to be present and not just prese t for others. We laughed and joked and had coffee & cookie rituals as we wake up. Nights cold we huddle closer on a bed on the floor covered in wet cob, we fall exhausted but absolute bliss and a repaired hearth.

Truthfully I somewhat miss the soot.