Soft leaves blown mindlessly by the wind only to lay down, once more on the damp earth under the cold shade of a tree, layer upon layer of colour.
The limpid waters of the pond ringed by the warm colours of a cold autumn day.
The sounds of footsteps cushioned by a thick layer of damp leaves.
Leaves underfoot, red, yellow and orange.
It’s been raining pretty much the whole week. Not the usual highveld summer thunderstorms that come in the afternoon, shower down, and then go away, leaving the ground dry once again. Instead the rain has been softly and continuously falling. Clouds are low and leaden. There is mist in the mornings. For a province that enjoys sun light for most of the year, this time can be quite bleak.
The ground is waterlogged, saturated. There’s been floods in certain low lying areas of the province. People have lost their homes in the floods, those people who least need to have their homes swept away by the rising waters.
Pot holes have started to appear, slashing the tyres of the non-vigilant driver. Work crews have tried to work in the rain to repair the pot holes. Faulty traffic lights are a regular occurrence.
Temperatures have started to drop, boots and long sleeved tops have started to make an appearance in department stores. But the shops still have summer clothes on sale. The incongruity of all.
Soon the leaves will start to fall off the trees. Soon, the grass will be dry and the landscapes will become brown. Veld fire season will start, and the smell of the veld fire will once again remind me of my childhood in Mozambique.
This is the begining of autumn; even though we’ll still have some scorching days, the earth is preparing itself for another change of season.
