Blown away

A wild wind swept in from the sea last night to let us know that winter is always lurking in the rear down here at the tip of Africa, with thousands of miles of open ocean lapping on our shores, eager to reclaim what was once hers. The wind whipped the tender shoots of spring from the trees, leaving chaos in its wake, like grass cuttings from a giant lawnmower waiting to be raked up into neat piles.

The gusts howling down streets between tall buildings swirled a stinging cloud of dirt and litter, making me spit grit and lean into the wind as if in a summer southeaster on Cape Town's Foreshore. Not a good day for a skirt. The mountains were fully draped in tablecloth mode, and the fog resembled a waterfall as it fell down the slopes and dissipated into thin air as it reached the foot. Another demonstration of the power of nature, against which we cannot compete.

This pic makes it look at though I am the only car on the road, and it's true, I had left the pack quite far behind, and certainly any mention of traffic jams appears to be gross exaggeration. There are some moments of compensation, and this view was one!

Behind me, the sky was completely overcast and Kommetjie was practically in the dark. Another Cape Town thing - four seasons in one day and sometimes only in one place.