Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, Cape Town

Things about A garden in Cape Town

is utilizing a security service for security versus online attacks. This procedure is automatic. You will be rerouted as soon as the validation is complete. Kirstenbosch Arboretum, Cape Town, South Africa. I'm not a plant person. I suppose that's far better than not being a people person. Or not being a pet dog individual. Or a feline individual.(For the record, I am 2 of the 3
. I'll let you guess.)It's not that plants and I have a bad relationship(except for blackberry bushes. I shouldn't be around anything that depends upon me for nutrition, yet will quietly pass away without so much as a scream or a whimper. The only home plant that we have is a poor, limp you understand what? I don't even know what kind of

plant it is. It's a poor, limp, long-suffering green thing called Nigel. However after a visit to Kirstenbosch National Arboretum, simply outside of Cape Town, I started thinking that perhaps, maybe I could be a plant lover. Or, at the minimum, a plant liker. Or possibly simply https://myhomegarden.co.za of.

Gardens, Cape Town - South African History Online

an organized plant-murderer(for Nigel is the sole survivor in a genuine chlorophyll-tinged bloodbath). We took a taxi, for which I'm particular we overpaid(but it was still only about$ 10 or$15, so we didn't hassle ). Even the drive is charming. The breeze that runs over Cape Town doesn't reach Kirstenbosch, and we discovered ourselves roaming around in the
searing mid-afternoon sun. There are dozens of paths and routes which crisscross the garden. The hike takes a number of hours. We didn't do that. Clearly. (We discovered the panorama at the base of the mountain to be beautiful enough for our requirements, aaaand we had actually the added benefit of not getting heatstroke.)Also, please note that my husband is wearing denims.

JEANS. Still, it wasn't too long prior to we started to wilt. I refuse. The cycle continues. I am a monster.) But even in the searing heat, even for the brief time that we existed, Kirstenbosch was beautiful and idyllic. And romantic as hell. Or it would have been, if we had not all been gradually melting. And, you know, photobombing one another.