Rus ’n Bietjie Farm Retreat
Rus ’n Bietjie Farm Retreat
RUS ’N BIETJIE · SINCE 2018
RUS ’N BIETJIE · SINCE 2018
From thorn bushes to a place we call home.
From thorn bushes to a place we call home.
A few years, a few brave decisions, two German Shepherds and a whole lot of work with our own hands.
A few years, a few brave decisions, two German Shepherds and a whole lot of work with our own hands.
01 · THE BEGINNING
01 · THE BEGINNING
A blank canvas.
A blank canvas.
We purchased the farm back in 2018, site unseen. Looking out over the land, most people would have seen a nightmare: acres of dense, stubborn thorn bushes, and absolute silence. To us, coming straight from the city, traffic, and screen glow, it was a blank canvas. It was the start of our little piece of heaven. The first year was about survival and pure grit. We cleared just enough thorn bushes to lay down a footprint and built a humble 4×6-meter cabin.
No running water. No electricity—nights were lit by candles. No noise, except for the wind through the remaining thorns and the night sky bursting with stars you never get to see near the city.
We purchased the farm back in 2018, site unseen. Looking out over the land, most people would have seen a nightmare: acres of dense, stubborn thorn bushes, and absolute silence. To us, coming straight from the city, traffic, and screen glow, it was a blank canvas. It was the start of our little piece of heaven. The first year was about survival and pure grit. We cleared just enough thorn bushes to lay down a footprint and built a humble 4×6-meter cabin.
No running water. No electricity—nights were lit by candles. No noise, except for the wind through the remaining thorns and the night sky bursting with stars you never get to see near the city.
02 · THE EARLY WEEKENDS
02 · THE EARLY WEEKENDS
Small cabin, wide-open sky.
Small cabin, wide-open sky.
We didn’t take on those raw, chaotic early days alone. Trotting right alongside us, completely unbothered by the wild state of the place, were Angie and Eddie. Our two German Shepherd pups were only a few months old when we first let them off their leashes, watching their big paws awkwardly navigate the harsh terrain. They were our frontline pioneers, mapping every inch of the fence line, ears perked at every rustle in the brush, and courageously “defending” our 4×6-meter cabin from imaginary monsters in the dark.
We didn’t take on those raw, chaotic early days alone. Trotting right alongside us, completely unbothered by the wild state of the place, were Angie and Eddie. Our two German Shepherd pups were only a few months old when we first let them off their leashes, watching their big paws awkwardly navigate the harsh terrain. They were our frontline pioneers, mapping every inch of the fence line, ears perked at every rustle in the brush, and courageously “defending” our 4×6-meter cabin from imaginary monsters in the dark.
Those early weekends were rough. Washing dishes and bathing using an enamel bowl under the moonlight wasn’t luxurious—though Angie and Eddie were always right there at our feet, nudging cold noses against our ankles for a stray scrap or a pat on the head. But that first cup of one-plate gas stove coffee at sunrise on that tiny porch, with the two pups sprawled out asleep in the morning sun, made every drop of sweat worth it.
Those early weekends were rough. Washing dishes and bathing using an enamel bowl under the moonlight wasn’t luxurious—though Angie and Eddie were always right there at our feet, nudging cold noses against our ankles for a stray scrap or a pat on the head. But that first cup of one-plate gas stove coffee at sunrise on that tiny porch, with the two pups sprawled out asleep in the morning sun, made every drop of sweat worth it.
03 · GROWING TOGETHER
The farm softened, and so did we.
The farm softened, and so did we.
Year by year, the farm softened, and so did we. We stopped trying to conquer the land and started working with it. Opening up the old borehole made a hot outdoor shower feel like a five-star resort. A couple of modest solar panels went up. We pushed back the thorn bushes bit by bit, replacing them with a thriving garden. Angie and Eddie grew up right along with the landscape, transforming from clumsy puppies into majestic guardians of our little sanctuary, leading the charge on every weekend patrol.
Year by year, the farm softened, and so did we. We stopped trying to conquer the land and started working with it. Opening up the old borehole made a hot outdoor shower feel like a five-star resort. A couple of modest solar panels went up. We pushed back the thorn bushes bit by bit, replacing them with a thriving garden. Angie and Eddie grew up right along with the landscape, transforming from clumsy puppies into majestic guardians of our little sanctuary, leading the charge on every weekend patrol.
04 · TODAY
04 · TODAY
A breath of fresh air.
A breath of fresh air.
Today, when Friday afternoon hits, the city stress melts away the moment the tires hit the gravel driveway—and the back seat explodes into a flurry of eager whines and thumping tails. What started as an overgrown patch of thorns and a tiny, dark wooden shell has grown into our sanctuary. It taught us how little we actually need to be happy—a patch of soil, a warm fire, open skies, two loyal dogs by our side, and a space built with our own two hands. It isn’t just a farm anymore; it’s our breath of fresh air.
Today, when Friday afternoon hits, the city stress melts away the moment the tires hit the gravel driveway—and the back seat explodes into a flurry of eager whines and thumping tails. What started as an overgrown patch of thorns and a tiny, dark wooden shell has grown into our sanctuary. It taught us how little we actually need to be happy—a patch of soil, a warm fire, open skies, two loyal dogs by our side, and a space built with our own two hands. It isn’t just a farm anymore; it’s our breath of fresh air.
Come and make a little of it your own.
Come and make a little of it your own.
Every season brings another small change to the land. There’s room for new memories—and more photographs—still to come.
Every season brings another small change to the land. There’s room for new memories—and more photographs—still to come.