An abundant garden

Red-faced mousebirds alight en masse in the upper branches of the coprosma, where they feast quietly on the fat, juicy berries.They are almost cockatiel-like with their long tails and cheeky crests - a very pretty species. The fearless Cape white eye divebombs overhead as it swoops in from nearby and up into the twigs, alighting without so much as a squeal of brakes on the tiniest twig - always a source of wonder - and cheeps cheerily as it snatches at a berry as big as its beak, then swoops away to the next tree to gobble it down unobserved by the camera.

The current heatwave conditions in Cape Town (it's official) are blissfully eased in such close proximity to the sea, with a stiffish breeze crossing the Peninsula. We're still headed for the hot summer months of January and February and it seems as though many are already looking forward to winter.

I try to observe what the trees are doing as an indication of things to come. The coprosma is not as heavily laden with berries as usual, perhaps a sign of a mild winter this year? The huge gum tree at the top of the garden that seemed to be dying last year has unfortunately rejuvenated itself and is showing vigorous regrowth such as we haven't seen in thirty years. Either it has reached a deeper aquifer or it has tapped into the municipal water pipes at last! Meanwhile the restios a few metres away, which used to stand with their feet in a permanent spring, have continued to die back since last summer. So no equitable water-sharing there.

My concern at present is for my pride and joy, the forty-year-old milkwood tree under which I spend time in quiet contemplation. Although it is natural for the leaves to proliferate at the tips of the branches and the inner twiggy growth to die back, leaving a cave-like inner space, the leaves on this tree have become sparse and many are turning yellow. I have never heard of a milkwood dying at such a young age, and they can live to over 1 000 years. The neighbourhood is abundant with ancient specimens and their canopies are so thick as to block out all sun from the inner space. It's heavily laden with shiny purple berries and five saplings are making good headway close by from last year's seeds. I'll leave them and let a copse develop for posterity in case the parent tree is on the way out. Enough of manicured gardens. Let the trees grow where they will and work around them.