Summer Skies and Rainy Afternoons
"On certain Sundays in November
When the weather bothers me
I empty drawers of other summers
Where my shadows used to be
And she is standing by the water
As her smile begins to curl
In this or any other summer
She is something altogether different
Never just an ordinary girl"
I turned Southbound onto the N1 Highway and left the beautiful Jacarandas in my rearview. It's my favourite time of year in the city. Despite the grey and stone, the trash and the smoke, October and November is an extravaganza of purple, white and bright yellows. Trees show off their summer dresses with shameless abandon and while most people just go about their daily rush to and from work, meetings and school drop offs, there's a reminder that beauty can be found in even the most dangerous and scary places. Snaking through the heavy afternoon traffic I could feel the grip of the city ease off slightly. A few more miles and I'd be chasing that endless ribbon of black stretched out in front of me like a lazy snake in the sun. Heat waves were dancing off the tarmac and in the distance I could see a magnificent thunderstorm building. I was heading straight into the storm, lightning dancing in an almost purple cloud. Africa. Home.
As the black top gave way to dirt roads I opened the windows, took in the smell of thorn trees and freshly plowed fields. With Foucault on the radio I made my way through the largest and oldest meteorite impact site in earth. The Vredefort Dome. This is old country and like many unique and fragile places on earth it's been through a lot. The battle to conserve and protect this paradise while improving the socio-economic situation of its residents and maintaining a feasible environment for land and business owners is ever evolving and extremely challenging. I hope we can manage the impact of tourism and educate visitors to The Dome and inspire them through our example to also respect the ancient and fragile place we call home.
I always take the long way home, taking the back roads with nobody on them. I stop next to the road whenever I spot a Kudu or jackal or beautiful herd of cows and around these parts people still wave when they drive past. I always stop at the Venterskroon Inn. Friendly bartenders and beer so cold it might be just a few degrees north of freezing.
This place is full of memories. I'm a fifth generation son of The Dome and everywhere I go I recall events, moments and adventures. I gravitate to the hard and often sad memories and I force myself to go through them and learn the lessons I might have neglected due to a lack of humility or inexperience. I use these drives to remind me where I'm from and to remember that living and working in the city is a means to an end. These mountains, valleys, rivers and endless fields of golden grass are where my dreams and songs were born. It's the place where I can still breathe and despite the overwhelming pain, regret and uncertainties, still find hope and a song to sing.
I said goodbye to my friends at the bar and with beer breath and a cold one for the road I took a right at the crossroads. I drove up the hill, pulled over to the side of the road and looked out over the farm and my childhood home. A cow was drinking at the concrete reservoir, her calf hiding in the shade of a massive thorn tree. I used to jump in to cool off in the icy water and it seemed like a good idea. I opened the door but I hesitated. I used to bring her here in the early days and I remember watching her testing the water before jumping in. Wild and beautiful, shivering in my arms as the full moon was rising over Tygerfontein. I kept the engine running and opened another beer......it's a memory I'd rather keep intact. Besides....it was getting late and there were some more stops to make.....
JB