Rustgevonden

04/09/2026

Dag 243 – Bosvibes, kleiner jeans en gebreekte takke

Ek weet… Dag 243 het eintlik al ’n rukkie gelede aangebreek. Ek het net nog nie kans gekry om dit neer te skryf nie.

Die lewe was die afgelope tyd ’n bietjie van ’n rollercoaster. Nie die rustige een waar jy glimlag en jou hande in die lug hou nie — meer die een waar jy half wonder of die mense wat die ding bestuur, self weet wat hulle doen. 😄

En vir ’n slag lyk dit vandag asof die wêreld hier by Rustgevonden ook ’n bietjie asemhaal.

Die lug is swaar en grys. Alles is droog en stowwerig en die bos lyk asof hy al lank wag.

Maar daar is iets in die lug.

Die belofte van die eerste lentereën.

Ek dink nie ’n mens wat nie baie tyd in die bos deurbring, sal ooit heeltemal verstaan wat daardie eerste reën hier beteken nie. Dit is nie net water nie. Dit is ’n verandering in die hele atmosfeer.

Die eerste druppels wat die warm, droë grond tref. Daardie ongelooflike reuk van nat aarde wat opkom. Die stof wat gaan lê. Die bome wat binne ’n paar dae begin verander. Die gras wat amper oornag groen word.

En skielik begin die bos weer lewe.

Voëls raak besiger. Insekte verskyn uit nêrens. Die diere beweeg anders. Alles wat maande lank stil en droog gelyk het, herinner jou dat daar eintlik heeltyd lewe onder die oppervlak was.

Ek dink dis hoekom ek so lief is vir hierdie plek.

Die bos leer jou nogal baie van die lewe.

Dat droogte nie die einde beteken nie.

Dat stil tye nie beteken dat niks gebeur nie.

En dat, wanneer die tyd reg is, nuwe lewe sommer deur die kleinste krakie kan begin uitkom.

Soos… nuwe kleregroottes. 😂

Want ja, dames en here…

14 kg is weg!😵😁

Ek het amptelik in kleiner jeans begin rondloop.

Ek gaan nie voorgee hierdie reis was maklik nie. Dit was nie.

Daar is dae wat ek myself letterlik moet oorreed om aan te hou. Dae waar “gesonde leefstyl” vir my klink soos ’n baie persoonlike aanval. Dae waar ek vir myself moet verduidelik dat nee, ek het nie eintlik ’n broodjie *nodig* nie — ek wil net hê iemand moet my gelukkig maak.

En om elke dag weer die regte keuse te maak, raak soms nogal vermoeiend.

Maar ek hou aan.

Een dag op ’n slag.

En toe begin daar klein goed gebeur.

Die jeans raak losser.

Die lyf verander.

En onlangs het ek selfs my eerste **spier** 🏋️‍♀️raakgesien.

Ek moes behoorlik stilstaan en kyk.

Ek was nie seker of dit ’n spier was of net ’n vreemde skaduwee nie.

En toe, een oggend, kyk ek in die spieël…

en daar is ’n **keel.**👀👀

’n Regte keel....!*@ #

Ek was so lank gewoond aan my dubbelken dat ek vir ’n paar sekondes glad nie geweet het wat aangaan nie. 😂

Ek het amper iemand gaan vra wie se nek dit is.

Maar daar is hy.

My nek.

Ons maak vordering.

En terwyl ek stadigaan kleiner word, het sommige van ons ander inwoners gelukkig weer groter vordering gemaak.

Al die klein rescue-diertjies (en van die minder klein) is terug in die bos waar hulle hoort. Dit is seker een van die lekkerste dinge om te weet — dat hulle weer vry rondloop, hul eie ding doen en deel is van hierdie ongelooflike plek.

Maar natuurlik…

hulle vergeet nie waar die kombuis is nie.

So nou en dan kom daar nog ’n bekende gesiggie uit die bos om te kom inloer.

Net om seker te maak ek is nog hier.

En natuurlik om seker te maak ek maak nog snacks.

Want vryheid is wonderlik, maar ’n mens kan tog nie heeltemal vergeet waar die roomys en lekkernye vandaan kom nie. 😂

En dan, tussen al die chaos van die lewe, wil ek ook net ’n oomblik vat om vir **Danie** dankie te sê.

Dankie vir my pragtige nuwe kar.

Maar veral dankie dat jy altyd na my kyk en altyd seker maak ek is okay. Vir die klein goed wat jy doen, die groot goed wat jy doen en vir die manier waarop jy altyd probeer om dinge vir my makliker te maak.

Ek waardeer jou.

So hier is ek op Dag 243.

Nie perfek nie.

Nie altyd gemotiveerd nie.

Nie klaar nie.

Maar 14 kg ligter, ’n paar jeans kleiner, moontlik een spier ryker en blykbaar weer in besit van ’n nek. 😂

En ek sit hier in die bos en wag vir daardie eerste lentereën.

Want wanneer daardie eerste druppels uiteindelik val en die reuk van nat aarde deur Rustgevonden trek, weet ek die bos gaan weer verander.

En miskien is dit ’n goeie herinnering vir my ook.

Dat dinge nie altyd vinnig verander nie.

Dat daar soms lang, droë seisoene is.

Maar dat daar altyd iets onder die oppervlak aangaan.

En wanneer die reën uiteindelik kom......begin alles weer van voor af leef.

Met Rustgevonden Liefde 🌿❤️

01/07/2026

Ses maande, 'n paar grys hare, 'n paar kilogram minder... en 'n hart voller as ooit.

Dis alweer tyd vir 'n bietjie opvang. Ek het amper vergeet hoe 'n mens blog skryf tussen troubeplanning, bouwerk, stof, modder, gym (ja, daardie lelike woord), en die lewe wat soms besluit om jou sommer met albei hande vas te gryp.

Die afgelope ses maande was... interessant. En as jy my ken, weet jy "interessant" is gewoonlik 'n mooi manier om te sê: "Ek weet nie hoe ons dit gemaak het nie!"

Soos meeste van julle weet, was ons diep in troubeplanning. En nee, Pinterest het nie gehelp nie. Dit het net nog goed gewys wat ek nie geweet het ek nodig het nie! Intussen het ons ook besluit ons gaan gewig verloor – op die regte manier. Ongelukkig beteken "die regte manier" mos mens moet oefen. En ek kan met volle oortuiging sê: ek en oefening gaan waarskynlik nooit beste vriende wees nie. Ek het dit gedoen... maar met baie dramatiese sugte en 'n paar woorde wat nie geskik is vir 'n familieblog nie.

Tussen dit alles het my gesondheid my so bietjie laat les opsê. Menopouse is beslis nie vir sissies nie, en saam met dit het my geestesgesondheid ook 'n paar draaie geloop. Daar was dae wat ek regtig gevoel het ek verloor die stryd. Dae waar glimlag moeiliker was as gewoonlik en moed net eenvoudig weggekruip het.

Maar soos die lewe maar maak, het die son weer begin deurbreek.

By Rustgevonden het die reën ons behoorlik uitgedaag. Ons het gebou, afgebreek, herbou, herstel en soms net gestaan en gekyk hoe die reën nóg 'n plan verander. Ek dink ons het in hierdie ses maande genoeg modder gesien om vir die volgende tien jaar genoeg te hê. Maar elke projek wat voltooi word, herinner ons weer hoekom ons hierdie droom leef.

En toe... gebeur daar iets wat alles in perspektief plaas.

Ons het die voorreg gehad om ons seun met die liefde van sy lewe te sien trou.

Ek kan eerlik sê: dit was die mooiste troue wat ek nog ooit bygewoon het. Nie omdat dit perfek was nie, maar omdat dit gevul was met liefde, lag, trane, familie, vriende en mense wat opreg daar was vir twee ongelooflike jongmense. Elke oomblik was eg. Elke glimlag was werklik. Elke drukkie het gevoel soos huis.

En skielik maak al die stres, al die laatnagte, al die bekommernisse en al die harde werk sin.

# # # Aan NW en Marisha

My liefste kinders...

Dankie dat julle ons laat deel het in een van die mooiste hoofstukke van julle lewens. Julle liefde vir mekaar is rustig, opreg en vol respek. Mag julle altyd mekaar se grootste spanmaat wees. Mag julle nooit ophou lag saam nie, nooit ophou droom saam nie, en altyd onthou dat die mooiste huise nie van bakstene gebou word nie, maar van geduld, vergifnis, geloof en baie liefde.

Marisha, dankie dat jy ons seun so mooi liefhet. Jy het lankal deel van ons familie geword, maar nou is dit sommer amptelik. Ons kon nie vir hom 'n mooier lewensmaat gevra het nie.

NW, ons is ongelooflik trots op die man wat jy geword het. Jou pa en ek het jou sien grootword, maar hierdie naweek het ons gesien hoe jy jou eie gesin begin bou. Dis 'n voorreg waarvoor geen ouer ooit regtig voorberei word nie.

Mag God elke tree van julle saam seën.

En terwyl hierdie blog dalk baie oor een troue gaan, wil ek ook vir al my ander kinders iets sê.

Ek sien julle.

Ek sien die harde werk, die opofferings, die ure wat niemand anders raaksien nie. Ek sien hoe elkeen van julle besig is om julle eie suksesverhale te skryf. Julle hoef nie almal dieselfde pad te stap om my trots te maak nie. Julle maak my trots bloot deur die mense te wees wat julle is.

Dankie dat julle my kinders is. Dankie dat julle my laat lag, my soms grys hare gee, my leer, my verras en my elke dag herinner hoe geseënd ek is.

En vir die res van my familie en vriende wat hierdie reis saam met ons stap – dankie. Julle liefde, ondersteuning, gebede en aanmoediging beteken meer as wat woorde ooit sal kan sê.

Nou... is alles skielik weer rustig?

Glad nie.

Daar is nog projekte. Nog planne. Nog diere om te versorg. Nog bouwerk. Nog stof. Nog reën. En waarskynlik nog 'n paar kilogram wat nie heeltemal verstaan hulle moes al weg gewees het nie.

Maar vandag kies ek om net dankbaar te wees.

Dankbaar dat ons deur die storms gekom het.

Dankbaar dat ek nog hier is.

En ongelooflik opgewonde oor wat die volgende hoofstuk gaan bring.

Met Rustgevonden liefde🍃

06/06/2026

https://youtu.be/Qpl5plPpX2I?si=Dx7mVapR9eZBEMVm

The video showcases another amazing weekend in the bush, d**g what ...

06/06/2026

https://youtu.be/P3RjP0_nf8c?si=7hso0jY2k0gfrrMP

Astrophotography at our Rustgevonden in Leeukruin, Limpopo, South A...

25/05/2026

Day 141 - Bush Vibes, Broken Branches & Smaller Jeans

# # # 71 Days Later

Seventy-one days.

That’s how long it has been since my last *Bush Vibes, Broken Branches & Smaller Jeans* update — and honestly, life has happened in every possible direction since then.

Some days have felt like peaceful sunsets over the bushveld, where everything slows down just enough for you to hear yourself think again. Other days have felt more like driving down a dirt road with a tyre-pressure warning light flashing while someone asks what’s for dinner.

But somewhere between the chaos, the laughter, the feeding of animals, the endless cups of coffee, and the occasional emotional support snack that definitely did *not* support the smaller jeans situation… things have shifted.

Again.

The bush has a funny way of doing that to a person.

You arrive carrying stress, expectations, noise, exhaustion, and sometimes even resentment. Then slowly, without you noticing, the mornings become softer. Your breathing changes. Your shoulders drop. You start measuring wealth differently.

Not by schedules.
Not by notifications.
Not even by success.

But by moments.

By the sound of crunching gravel under tyres.
By a kudu staring at you like you owe him money.
By feeding animals at sunset while the sky performs for free.
By laughing until your stomach hurts around a fire that smells like memories.

And maybe that’s the real “smaller jeans” part of this journey.

Not only the physical changes — although yes, we celebrate those victories too — but the emotional shedding.

Smaller worries.
Smaller tolerance for nonsense.
Smaller need to constantly prove yourself.

Now, speaking of smaller jeans…

I finally stopped fighting the inevitable and joined a gym.

I hate it.

Deeply. Passionately. With every sore muscle in my body.

Nobody tells you that adulthood eventually becomes paying money to voluntarily suffer while someone named Chad tells you to “feel the burn.”

But somehow… it’s working.

I’ve officially lost 7kg.

Which may not sound like much considering when I first started this journey, but truthfully, I only really started properly losing weight from the 10th of April. So I’m learning to celebrate progress instead of perfection — even if I still consider lunges a direct attack on my happiness.

Life outside of the gym has been beautifully full too.

We’ve officially reached the point in the wedding planning journey where both the Kitchen Tea and the Bachelor’s have come and gone — and both were everything they should have been: joyful, emotional, slightly chaotic, and overflowing with love.

Watching people show up wholeheartedly for the ones you love does something special to your heart.

Then there are the bush babies…

The little ones are almost fully weaned now and preparing to go back to where they belong — back into nature, wild and free as they were always meant to be. It’s bittersweet every single time. You spend months feeding, worrying, cleaning, stressing, loving… only to eventually let go.

But I suppose that’s always been the goal.

Love them enough to return them to the wild.

And because life apparently felt we were not busy enough, we now also have a new rescue: Bartu the bush pig.

Bartu was caught in a snare and his hind leg was badly damaged in the process. His future is still uncertain, and there’s a possibility he may lose the leg altogether, but he’s getting stronger every day.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from both animals and people, it’s this:

You never underestimate the will to survive when love and care are involved.

We remain hopeful that one day Bartu will still be able to live the semi-wild life he deserves.

Life lately has been hectic.

Sometimes overwhelmingly so.

There are days where the mental load feels heavier than the physical one. Days where I feel like I am juggling flaming torches while balancing on broken branches.

But through all of it, I remain unbelievably grateful.

Grateful for a husband who continues to support me even on the days where I feel like I might actually be losing my mind. Grateful for my beautiful boys and bonus daughters who keep me grounded, laughing, loved, and reminded of what truly matters.

At the end of it all, the bush still calls me back to myself.

It reminds me to slow down.
To notice.
To breathe.
To laugh more.
To carry less.

And thankfully…

The jeans are still fitting a little better too.

Until the next update —
stay wild, stay soft, and don’t underestimate what a little time in nature can heal.

— Rustgevonden Love 🌿

21/03/2026

Astrophotography at Rustgevonden in Leeukruin, Limpopo. The video showcases the Witch Head Nebula, Pleiades Cluster, Orion & Running Man and Horse Head Nebu...

15/03/2026

Day 66: Bush vibes, broken branches & smaller jeans… apparently.

Time for a little life update from the mud capital of the bush.

First things first: the rain. The endless, dramatic, slightly personal-feeling rain. At this point the road is less “road” and more “advanced off-road training course.” I’m fairly certain if the whole bush thing doesn’t work out, I now qualify as a professional rally driver. Sliding around corners in the mud while pretending it’s intentional is a skill, people.

And then there’s the cold creeping in. I can *literally* feel winter approaching… in the ache of my big toe. Apparently that’s what happens with age. I was always told wisdom comes with age, but nobody mentioned the *forecasting toe* that comes with it. If this keeps up I’ll start offering weather reports.

Despite the great mud era of 2026, we had an absolutely fantastic stay at Rustgevonden – our place of peace and love in the bush. There’s something about being surrounded by the beauty of the bush that resets your soul (even if you need a tractor to get out afterwards).

*Rescues update time!*
Yes… I said *rescues*. Plural. Because apparently we don’t know how to do things halfway.

Our beloved Bush Baby Nova is doing *FANTASTIC*!. He is growing ridiculously fast and before we know it he’ll be a fully grown little acrobat of the night where he belongs. And as if one tiny nocturnal chaos goblin wasn’t enough… he now has a friend! A second bush baby named *Mi-Q* has joined the adventure. The two of them together are already plotting world domination (or at least the destruction of our sleep schedule).

We’re also still hoping for good news about *Pou-line*. There’s no update yet, but we keep hoping she’s simply hiding away with her babies somewhere safe, healthy and doing exactly what clever bush moms do best.

Below are some of our favourite moments from the weekend. Mud, bush magic, broken branches, tiny rescues and all.

We hope you enjoy them as much as we do.

Wishing everyone a wonderful **bush-vibes kind of weekend**.

With Rustgevonden love 🌿

*P.S.* My jeans still don’t fit… which is very rude considering how much mud-sliding exercise I’ve been doing.

27/02/2026

🎵Daars ’n g*t in die grond… en die groen gras groei daarom🎵 🌱

So loop ek vanoggend en neurie daai ou liedjie in my kop terwyl ek huis skoonmaak hier in die bos. Dis stil. Net voëls, wind en my eie gedagtes. En toe — *blahm!* — tref dit my soos ’n emmer koue water.

Dit was nie net ’n kinder-rympie nie.
Dit was ’n waarskuwing vir wanneer jy groot word.

Laat ek verduidelik…

Hierdie storie gaan oor Piet en Susarie. Jy ken hulle mos. Hulle was al in baie stories. 😉

Een nag kry Piet een of ander briljante idee. Die volgende oggend is hy vroeg op, graaf oor die skouer, ernstig soos ’n man met ’n missie.

“Wat maak jy?” vra Susarie.

“Ek gaan ’n g*t grou. Moenie worry nie, watch net!”

Min weet Susarie daardie g*t gaan vir die res van haar lewe werk beteken.

Aanvanklik gebeur daar niks. Die g*t lê net daar. Onooglik. Stowwerig. Halfpad. Soos baie “briljante idees” maar is.

Weke gaan verby.
Piet sê niks.
Doen niks.

Susarie kan nie meer kyk na die kaal kol in haar erf nie. Sy plant bietjie gras om die g*t. Gee dit water. En *wa-la* — die groen gras groei daarom.

Nog tyd gaan verby.
Die g*t bly.

Terwyl sy tog nou al moet kyk na die ding, besluit sy sy kan hom net sowel mooi maak. Sy ry dorp toe. Koop potgrond. ’n Mooi boom. ’n Paar plantjies. Selfs klippies vir versiering.

Nou is daar ’n boom in die g*t,
die g*t in die grond,
en die groen gras groei daarom.

Maar dis nie al nie.

Susarie water die boom.
Sy snoei hom.
Sy beskerm hom teen wind en weer.
Teen goggas.
Teen droogte.

Jaar na jaar kyk sy hoe daai boom groei. Takke. Blare. Vrugte.

Hoor jy dit?

🎼
Daars ’n vrug aan die tak,
die tak aan die mik,
die mik aan die boom,
die boom in die g*t,
die g*t, die g*t in die grond…

En wie sit by die braaivuur en vat krediet vir die pragtige skaduboom?

Piet.

Want hy het mos een dag ’n g*t gegrou.
En geweet Susarie gaan al die werk doen.

En net daar spoil ek toe my eie kinderdae-herinnering.

Want dis mos maar net die lewe.

Daar’s altyd iemand wat EERSTE die g*t gegrou het —
en iemand anders wat in die agtergrond al die werk doen.
Water. Snoei. Dra. Bou. Onderhou. Red.

Die g*t was dalk die begin.
Maar die groei?
Die vrugte?
Die mooi?

Dit kom van die een wat bly om die werk te doen.

So ja…

Jou g*t, Piet. 😌

Ek los julle maar met die gedagte vandag want hoekom sal ek myself nou aleen sit en opwerk!

Lekker week vir almal.😁

Rustgevonden-liefde 🌿

18/02/2026

Day 41 – Bush Vibes, Broken Branches & “Smaller” Jeans

Well. The last ten days have been… character building.

Danie was overseas most of these days, living his best international life, probably eating decent food and sleeping uninterrupted, while I have been home holding down the fort like a slightly dramatic but determined bushveld general. He has returned in one piece and with an added touch of flu. I will however make sure he survives!

First up – I bravely ventured to **Bush Babies Monkey Sanctuary** all by myself. Because why not? What could possibly go wrong when one woman goes to visit adorable primates without adult supervision? It was magical. It was wholesome. It was me bonding with monkeys and pretending I’m basically Jane Goodall with better mascara. (I dont wear mascara but what-ever)

And then… I got what I thought was food poisoning.

Plot twist: it wasn’t a quick in-and-out episode. It has been a full-blown 10-day stomach saga. A long-term relationship. A clingy, emotionally draining, zero-benefits situation. I have spent more time negotiating with my digestive system than I have negotiating wedding décor. At this point I would like to formally break up with whatever microscopic gremlin has taken up residence in my body.

Which brings me to wedding planning stepmom life.

Let me just say: being part of this season is SUCH a privilege. Watching my stepson and his beautiful fiancée build their day is honestly the sweetest thing. They have been unbelievably kind and patient with me. Which is good… because I have an overactive creative brain that does not understand the concept of “subtle.”

In my head I’m building floral installations that can be seen from space. I’m redesigning seating charts at 11pm. I’m mentally adding fairy lights to things that absolutely do not require fairy lights. Every time I get a “small, simple idea,” my brain goes, “Yes… but what if we add drama?”

I have to physically restrain myself from running off with my own Pinterest board and accidentally planning an entirely different wedding. Luckily, they gently smile at me like, “We love you… but please sit down.” And I do. Mostly.

Now, about this diet.

Friends. The diet is not dieting.

My lifestyle is simply too much fun. Too much bush braais. Too many “just a little taste” moments. Too many glasses raised to love and life and surviving stomach bugs. My waistline has apparently decided that even ten days of illness is not a convincing enough argument to shrink. It’s like my jeans are watching me and whispering, “Cute that you’re trying.”

But I refuse to quit. I WILL get photo-ready. Even if it means wrestling my metabolism like a warthog in mating season. Those wedding photos will not defeat me.

Meanwhile, the planned changes at Rustgevonden are officially underway. There’s dust, there’s movement, there’s progress. It feels like watching the bush after the first rain – messy, hopeful, full of promise. Before we know it, it will all be complete, and we’ll wonder how we ever lived without it.

And then… Pou-line.

That sneaky queen has produced FIVE brand-new peacock babies. Five! She clearly did not consult me about capacity planning. They are tiny, dramatic, fluffy miracles. Here’s hoping they survive and grow into the full-blown feathered chaos agents they were born to be.

So here we are.
Husbands abroad.
Monkeys bonded.
Stomachs humbled.
Wedding magic brewing.
Jeans still suspiciously snug.
Peacock babies multiplying.

If there’s one thing the bush teaches you, it’s this: storms pass, stomach bugs eventually pack their bags, and new life always pops up when you least expect it. The broken branches make way for fresh growth. The drought makes the rain sweeter. And sometimes the peahen just quietly doubles the population while you’re distracted.

Onwards we go.
Positive vibes.
Wild hearts.
And always, always… Rustgevonden love 🤍🌿

08/02/2026

A Very Unplanned Day at Bush Babies Monkey Sanctuary

I woke up this morning feeling… *ehhgg*.
One of those days.

My husband is overseas, our boys are grown and living their own full lives, and I suddenly felt my age in a way that was hard to shake. That quiet, uncomfortable feeling of standing still while everyone else seems to be moving forward at full speed.

I considered moping in bed for the day—truly considered it—but then, almost out of nowhere, I gave myself 15 minutes.

Fifteen minutes to get up, get dressed, and get out of the house.

No plan. No destination. Just movement.

I grabbed my camera, a hat, and slathered on sunscreen “just in case.” And then I drove.

Somewhere between being directionless and trying not to overthink, a memory popped up: I had brought my son to Bush Babies Monkey Sanctuary in Hartebeespoort years ago, back when he was still in primary school. Without much debate, I turned the car and decided—*that’s it, I’m going.*

And wow… am I glad I did.

From the moment I arrived, I felt lighter. I was greeted by the most beautiful orchard of fruit-bearing mango trees, dappled sunlight, and the unmistakable feeling of being somewhere quietly special. Walking into the sanctuary felt like stepping out of my head and into a living, breathing reminder of why these places matter so much.

Going alone was a little daunting at first, but that feeling didn’t last long. Our guide, Sam, was an absolute gem. He jumped in without hesitation—taking all the photos my husband would normally have taken—allowing me to simply *be* in the moment. He answered every question with patience, shared the stories of how these animals ended up here, and explained why sanctuaries like this, though sometimes controversial, are not just important but necessary.

This place is a direct result of human failure.

Animals bought as pets because they’re “cute,” only to be abandoned when they become messy, demanding, or inconvenient. Animals that, heartbreakingly, often outlive the people who once claimed to love them. Bush Babies Monkey Sanctuary steps in where we don’t—and does so with compassion, education, and deep respect for the animals in their care.

Spending time up close with these monkeys isn’t just enjoyable; it’s grounding. It’s humbling. It’s a reminder that conservation isn’t an abstract idea—it’s hands-on, emotional, and urgently needed.

I arrived that morning feeling stuck, invisible, and a little lost.

I left feeling grateful, present, and quietly restored.

If you’re looking for something meaningful to do in Hartebeespoort—whether with family, friends, or bravely on your own—I cannot recommend Bush Babies Monkey Sanctuary enough. It’s not just a visit. It’s an experience that stays with you long after you leave.

Thank you to everyone involved for caring, for educating, and for showing up when it truly matters.

Rustgevonden love🍃