Holiday time on the farm sounds relaxed. Slow mornings. Long lunches. Feet up in the shade.
That’s the idea, anyway.
In reality, the vines don’t know it’s holiday season. They still need tending, checking, guiding and the odd stern word if they start getting ideas of their own. If we want the best out of them come harvest, the work carries on — quietly, carefully, and without much fuss. I’ve seen enough seasons to know this.
The real excitement this week came with the arrival of the cousins from Sandton.
Truffle arrived first, all confidence and good posture. She’s an aqua gym instructor now, which she mentioned several times, usually while demonstrating stretches no one asked for. Close behind her was Nougat, head taster at the local sausage factory, a job he takes very seriously and speaks about with great authority.
It’s always good having the cousins here.
Enzo, naturally, took it upon himself to give them the grand tour. Vineyard rows, river, cellar, favourite digging spots, the full experience. He loves showing off the farm, especially to visitors who pretend not to be impressed and then absolutely are.
Noodle insisted on handling orientation. Rules were laid out clearly and firmly: where you may go, where you may not go, what is definitely not yours, and why the cellar is off-limits at all times. No exceptions. No negotiations. Nougat nodded respectfully. Truffle asked follow-up questions. Noodle did not appreciate that.
Nibby wasted no time and dragged Nougat straight into training. Guineafowl chasing, apparently, is a skill best learned young, or at least learned enthusiastically. There was a lot of running, very little success, and even less dignity. I observed from the shade. As one should.
Dino, meanwhile, grew increasingly grumpy as both cousins showed far too much interest in the cellar. A sniff here. A curious pause there. Dino made it very clear: this is work, not a tourist attraction. Quite right too.
So yes, it’s holiday time on the farm.
There are visitors, laughter, chaos and the occasional stern reminder of boundaries. But the vines are still growing, the cellar is still sacred, and the work continues — just with a few extra paws underfoot.
I’ve watched many seasons come and go, and I can say this with confidence: this is how it should be.
Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all.
Lots of love
Lassy
