Today felt warm even before the sunrise began colouring the horizon shortly before five o’clock. The air has felt thick and unmoving all day. At first the sky was a brilliant blue that gave way to a steely grey before lunch … then there were raindrops! Fat drops of rain that made large wet patches on the hot cement outside the kitchen door – not even 30 seconds of joy before the rain disappeared and the sky became an uncompromising white with hardly a breath of wind to lift the leaves of the trees. At least the drought-stricken nasturtiums growing in pots near our front steps provide some bright colour.
So do the red poppies (Papaver rhoeas) in the bed near our swimming pool. This is the first time I have successfully grown them from seed, so I feel very proud of them.
In the back garden are mostly the seed heads only of the unexpected opium poppies (Papaver somniferm) which miraculously appeared after a six year absence.
More colour is provided by the yellow blooms of what used to be called Aloe tenuoir but is now known as Aloiampelos tenuior – commonly called a fence aloe, or climbing aloes, among other names. These are growing in a very dry spot below the window of our lounge.
The early spring rains (perhaps more accurately described as sprinkles) have provided the impetus for a plethora of wild flowers to bloom and greened the wild grasses – a condition known here as the ‘green drought’ – even though our dams remain dry. To give you an idea of the severity of this drought, look at my front lawn.
Then, to end on a cheery note, here is a photograph of the very patient Hadeda Ibis still diligently sitting on her nest. More news on that score when I see either broken eggshells on the ground or catch sight of a chick or two.
Something Over Tea 