So after a forgotten number of days of windless, unbelievably humid conditions, I'm standing outside holding the hose, when the edge of a bank of clouds sweeps in from the south, preceded by a branch-bending, reed-rustling gust of wind. A typical change in the weather modus operandi for Cape Town. The sacred ibis are blowing back to their roosts in an untidy flock - no neat and symmetrical V-formation. They can't wait to get back and are no doubt grateful for a, literally, tail-wind.
The sky, which only moments earlier was a clear blue, is a maelstrom of foggy grey cloud speeding low across the sea. Rain may have fallen on the mountain areas. The palm trees are bending and all the doors have slammed. The temperature has dropped by about 5 degrees and if it weren't for the wind, it would be just what the doctor ordered. Funny how we are never quite happy - it's either too calm and hot or too cold and windy - no happy medium.
It's the suddenness of the change, I suppose. Piles of papers that have sat undisturbed on the corner of a desk are now all over the floor and well on their way out of the door. Pictures are askew, the puppy is completely overexcited by all this sudden activity and jumping up and barking at everything. Completely the opposite of yesterday, when peace reigned!
Luckily the soaking I gave the garden yesterday is holding the dust down and it's lovely and cool.
I suspect that this was nature's way of marking the last rider in on the Cape Town Cycle Tour - more than 35 000 cyclists sweated it out over 109km - and a signal that we can reclaim our roads.
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