Life, Seasons and Muffins

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tiny white flowers with dried leaves

August in the Kalahari is not the most beautiful time of year. The savannah landscape is dry and dusty, the wind relentless, and the sunsets, while striking, are tinged with a haze. Yet, even in this raw, untamed season, there is life, movement, and anticipation.

Life is a lot like this August landscape. There are seasons that feel harsh, uncertain, or barren. But even then, we can hold fast to the promise that “there is a season for everything, and He makes everything beautiful in its time.” As the beautiful (and a family favourite) song by For King & Country (2024) reminds us:

“And You make everything, everything beautiful You make everything, everything new You make everything, everything beautiful In its time, in Your time, it’s beautiful.”

Just as the Kalahari is preparing to bloom again, so too do our lives unfold in God’s perfect timing. Each gust of wind, each swirling dust cloud, each fiery sunset is a reminder that beauty is coming—even if we can’t see it yet.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.- Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)

In this season, I love to pause and savor the small joys that make life meaningful, even amid the dust and wind. There’s the delight of my daughters visiting home for a week, filling the house with laughter, stories, and warmth. The quiet evenings under the stars, when the vast Kalahari sky stretches endlessly above and the world feels still, are moments of peace and wonder. There’s the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and muffins.

These small joys are gentle reminders that even in a season that is rugged and unpredictable, there is goodness, provision, and an expectation. Just as the Kalahari endures the wind and dust to bloom again in time, so too do our lives hold beauty in every season.

The Kalahari in August may not be the most beautiful, but it is a season worth embracing. And every season of life holds the promise that He will make all things beautiful in His time. (Recipe for Bran muffins on next page)

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When Life Gives You Lemons… Make Limoncello

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There’s a hush that settles over the Kalahari in winter. Mornings arrive slow, with breath visible in the crisp air and frost dusting the dry grass like powdered sugar. Winter is lingering—stubborn, beautiful, and utterly Kalahari.

The veld lies still, golden and brittle, stretching under a bright cold sky. Yet, the silence doesn’t last long. Laughter echoes through the house, boots crunch across the yard, and the clatter of coffee mugs marks the start of another day. Our winter days are filled with the joy of hunters who find joy not just in the chase, but in the moments in between—the stories, the meals, the memories. This is Kalahari Safari.

In the quiet moments—between prepping stews and stirring pots—I pause by the basket of lemons. My heart is full of thankfulness and memories that arrive unannounced, like the scent of citrus on a breeze. The sharp, sunlit fragrance takes me back…

To Italy.

To late alfresco dinners in Tuscany. To Positano, where the scent of citrus drifted on the sea breeze. To summer in a glass.

Limoncello. A bold, zesty Italian liqueur made by steeping lemon zest in alcohol. Bright yellow and intensely citrusy, it’s best sipped chilled on a long-awaited summer evening.

I find myself searching for that taste again—that golden memory. Longing for the return of slow, sun-drenched evenings. I scroll through the internet, looking for an authentic recipe, hoping to bottle a little bit of summer before it arrives.

I gather our Kalahari lemons. It will take time. But all good things do.

Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.

Mae West

While the hunters laugh and share stories around the fire, and the wind whistles outside, a jar of lemon zest quietly steeps in the corner of My Kalahari Kitchen—bottled sunshine.

And when the limoncello is finally ready, we’ll raise our glasses.

To winter in the Kalahari. To memories. And to the joy of citrus and time. – Aldalene

(Recipe on next page)

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My Kalahari Autumn Table: Nostalgic Baked Chicken with Chutney and Mayo

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It is my favourite season: autumn!
My heart quietly celebrates as I watch the tall Kalahari grass dancing in the light wind, whispering the promises of cooler days. After months of relentless sun and dry days, the land has begun to exhale. What a few months it has been… months of waiting, praying for rain, watching the skies with hope. Long, hot days that seemed to stretch endlessly. And then — the rain came.

Oh, how the rain transforms everything — even my anxious heart.
The scent of the earth deepens, rich and grounding. Sunsets blaze in hues of red and gold, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Grasslands of green surprise the sand. In the kitchen, this change of season stirs something in me too. The rhythm slows. It is the season of golden grasses, grateful hearts, and the gentle beauty of autumn.

Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons – Jim Bishop.

It is also a season to cook from the heart and to tell stories that warm the soul. Here at My Kalahari Kitchen, we lean into this moment — celebrating seasonal ingredients, nostalgic flavours, and the beauty of simply being together.

I find myself reaching for old favourites—recipes passed down, tucked away in handwritten notes and smudged with memory. The kind of food that fills a home with fragrance. Food that invites you to linger a little longer around the table.

One of those recipes, close to my heart and tied to so many family meals in our Kalahari kitchen, is baked chicken smothered in a creamy, tangy, and slightly sweet chutney-mayo sauce. While every family might have its own slight variation—some add curry powder, others a splash of lemon juice—the soul of the dish remains unchanged. It’s effortless, flavourful, and for sure a family favourite!

Here’s the nostalgic version from My Kalahari Kitchen — simple, satisfying and perfect for an autumn evening in the Kalahari. – Aldalene

(Recipe on next page)

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When the Kalahari Sings: Rain, Renewal, and Rustic Bread

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Sitting on the porch with my cup of coffee, my heart is full. It has started raining in the Kalahari. It is a feeling of thankfulness that one can not describe in words. The smell of the earth fills every longing prayer and sigh of the last few months. The parched land, which has endured relentless heat and months of drought, is finally receiving its blessing.

“Take a long, hard look. See how great He is—infinite, greater than anything you could ever imagine or figure out!

He pulls water up out of the sea, distills it, and fills up His rain-cloud cisterns. Then the skies open up and pour out soaking showers on everyone. Does anyone have the slightest idea how this happens? How He arranges the clouds, how He speaks in thunder?”

These are the symbols of His sovereignty, His generosity, His loving care.” -Job 36:26-28 (The Message)

Yes, I need to take a long, hard look at myself. My faith was small, my heart heavy as I watched Janneman return from the field without words. Each day, the burden of watching life wither away under the relentless drought weighed heavier.

And now, the skies have opened. The first drops danced on the dusty earth, bringing the scent of renewal. The ground drinks deeply, the once-dormant seeds awakening with promise. Birds call in celebration, every living thing breathes a sigh of relief. As do I!

This rain is more than just water. It is hope. It is an answer to unspoken prayers. It is a reminder that even in the driest, most desperate moments, provision comes in due time. God hears. He cares!

I close my eyes and listen. As the rain nourishes the land, I treasure the simple, comforting things of life. The smell of Kalahari rain, fresh bread in the oven, the laughter of Janneman returning from the field- these small joys remind me of life’s quiet abundance. Today calls for something hearty yet effortless. An easy oats and honey bread, no kneading required, just time and patience—ingredients that life itself often asks of us.

So, as the rain gently soaks the Kalahari, I mix flour, oats, honey, and water, letting them come together in their own rhythm. As the dough rises, so does my spirit, reminded that sometimes, all we need to do is wait. And I am reminded again—provision always comes, in its own perfect time.- Aldalene

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The Art of Simple Living: Purpose & Breakfast Bars (with a cup of coffee)

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It’s Monday morning… and there’s nothing quite like starting the day on our Kalahari porch, coffee in hand, watching the first light stretch across the savannah. That first sip of freshly brewed coffee, paired with a crunchy rusk (like these!) or one of these go-to express breakfast bars (recipe on next page), is pure magic.

Be still and know (recognize, understand) that I am God. – Psalm 46:10

There’s something sacred about these quiet moments—the world slowing awakening, the soft glow of dawn, the gentle rhythm of nature unfolding without hurry. Be still and know that I am God. It’s a whisper in the wind, a reminder in the stillness to let go, to stop striving, to simply be. Let God be.

Too often, we rush from one thing to the next, filling every moment with busyness. But here, in the hush of a Kalahari morning, I am reminded that life isn’t about chasing—it’s about knowing, recognizing…understanding…

And so I sit, I breathe, and I embrace the stillness—fully present, fully at peace—knowing that in this moment, I am right where I’m meant to be. – Aldalene

How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.

– Annie Dillard
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