If someone had told me 20 years ago that one day I would be living off the land (and that in the Kalahari!), I would probably have laughed.
Me? A city girl?
The girl who loved wandering through beautiful food markets and boutique food stores, discovering new flavours, browsing shelves filled with wonderful delicacies and bringing home something new and delicious.
And yet, here I am.
Making my own yoghurt.
Baking sourdough bread.
Working with our own meat.
Growing what we can.
Life in the Kalahari has slowly taught me something I never expected to learn: there is a particular kind of joy in using what the land gives you.
It isn’t about doing everything yourself or living without the conveniences I once loved. I still appreciate a beautiful deli and browsing through an European food market.
But there is something deeply satisfying about looking at what the land provides and asking, “What can I create with this?”
A handful of spinach becomes a vibrant pesto.
Fresh milk is transformed into creamy yoghurt or homemade cheese.
Flour, water and time come together to create sourdough bread.
And the harvest from the land becomes beautiful food shared around our family table.
Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.- Leonardo da Vinci
There is pleasure in the making, but even more than that, there is a deep contentment.
Perhaps it is because you begin to understand abundance differently.
Abundance is not always found in having more. Sometimes it is found in appreciating what is already in your hands. There is a quiet richness in simplicity — in having enough, and being deeply thankful for it.
The words from Psalm 65:11–12 keep coming back to me:
“You crown the year with your bounty,
and your carts overflow with abundance.
The grasslands of the wilderness overflow;
the hills are clothed with gladness.”
Living here in the Kalahari has made these words feel less like something I read and more like something I see. Something I feel. Something I taste.
My heart is full.
Not because life is perfect, but because I have learned to notice the gifts that are right in front of me.
And today, one of those gifts became spinach pesto.When the spinach is growing faster than we can gather it, this vibrant pesto is one of my favourite ways to preserve the harvest. It is fresh, full of flavour, and endlessly versatile. Toss it through warm pasta, spread it on toasted sourdough, spoon it over grilled springbok fillet, or swirl it into soup for an instant burst of colour and flavour.
Simple. Green. Fresh. And, like so many things in this life, completely unexpected.
Sometimes the wilderness really does overflow with abundance. (Recipe on page 2)
With love, Aldalene
