Blowing a gale

(A few years back at the same time of year. Shows that every season's weather repeats itself!)

A gale just blew up out of nowhere. I was standing next to some pine boards propped against the house when suddenly they all fell on top of me. If I were elderly, I would have been squashed. This is how quickly the weather changes in Cape Town. Another pile of planks just blew over and a whirlwind of gravel dust has covered me from head to toe - I am chewing on grit as I write this.

We have been relatively spoilt by the windless days recently, with the southeaster backing to southerly and bringing very pleasant conditions. But the southeaster is back without warning, bashing the poor palm trees, and dragons are chasing each other over the crest of Chapman's Peak.

The wind is singing its own ghostly tune as it finds its way through the cracks around the exterior of the house, and the blinds have been sucked out through the windows - time to batten down the hatches for a while. The lid of the Weber has been snatched from its perch and clanged onto the brick paving, where it will echo as it rolls to and fro until I go downstairs to retrieve it.

The little birds must have their tiny claws in a vice-like grip around the twigs as they resist a buffeting by the gusts. I doubt whether they would have much control over their flight in these conditions. Even the seabirds are clinging to the rocks, beaks facing into the wind for least resistance. The sea has been whipped up from a glassy surface to frothy slashes of spray across the bay, the sunlight gleaming glass green through the rising face laced with foam from a spent swell.

It's wild out there!