An alternative lyrical view of the onset of Swaziland spring is that the air is dank and damp, and the overcast lowering sky presages a grey-full weekend of dullness. The “welcomed” rain has released such strong aromas of recent veldt fires that they rasp and chisel away at the back of the throat – an evil rural halitosis. The veldt that has not been burnt off has lost its recent glorious glow of sun-catching burnt umber to the musty yellow of elderly cornflakes left in the breakfast bowl for an hour too long (and is just as sodden). And the veldt that has been burnt and is struggling to re-germinate now looks alarmingly like random strands of cabbage lodged between the blackened rotten teeth of an elderly Aunt I’ve been avoiding for years. But sjoe hey - all is not depressing or unwell. Yorick the Cat dined well last night; I know because he left the least edible half of his meal on the drive this morning. The front end of a very unlucky rat. Still we’ve got all summer to look forward to!
Posted on: Sat, 16 Aug 2014 17:06:03 +0000
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