The sea is whipped up into a frenzy of white horses and the sky is lowering, heavy grey clouds moving in from the west. Fishing boats are chugging harbour-ward as fast as their propellers can take them, vast plumes of spray sweeping their decks from bow to stern. Radio warnings of possible flooding are being broadcast.
At the moment the wind is strong and rising, the gumtrees bending before it and the leaves shushing in sympathy. The last of the flowers will be stripped from the gums by the end of the day and the roads will be littered with the debris associated with the gales and heavy rain that are forecast for tonight. It's time to batten down the hatches, even if you aren't on a boat! Our garden will have a river running through it and the delicate plants will shrivel and wilt in the salt air. It's a rather dispiriting time for gardeners, who have just put in their autumn plantings and will have to start all over again after the first real storm of winter.
In three days' time, we will doubtless be bathed in sunshine again, back in sleeveless shirts and slip-slops. I said you needed a big cupboard in Cape Town.
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