Tuesday, August 19, 2014

The rain comes, as does spring

The days, the weeks, the months are flying rapidly by; spring has come early this year and I'm astounded that bar a few more (possibly freezing) cold spells, we are through the so-called 'worst' of winter.

After a week of fantastic spring weather that saw the inhabitants of this city flock in what I call 'champagne weather' to its coastlines, forests, parks, botanic gardens and mountains, the rain is again hurtling against roofs and windows. While The Mountain and city remain well hidden beneath a voluptuous elephant-grey duvet.

It's within this moodiness that I thrive: on fire-full hearths and the Cape's finest red wine, on Arabica coffe and toasted chocolate and almond croissants seeped in Belgium chocolate. This is the Cape's secret season.

Right now, like identical beads on a necklace, the days seep into each other while pressure and stress tenderise my shoulder muscles: even so I love my life, also the city that has adopted me, and a 'job' that embraces me, dances closely with me.

I'm happlily teaching an extra two evening classes, but they sap any remaining spare time that I had. The extra work is part of my now much shorter-term plan to completely free myself from debt's chains. My life is more streamlined and simplified than ever before - I'm champing at the bits as I sniff the hints of freedom in the air.

In the first week of September I'm savouring a trip to my alma mater, Rhodes University, in the Eastern Cape's Grahamstown. In fact, I cannot wait.

I'm also waiting to hear about a trip to Prague and the Czech Republic in early November; although it's going to stretch me intellectually - long story - I am embracing stretchment (new word). I am especially excited about seeing new shapes of noses, eyes, eyebrows, shades of skin, bone structures and lilting languages that are in such contrast to the ones on the streets that spiral and network around me right now. I long to taste other flavours, to look at a different sky and to plug into a history so startlingly different to my own.

Life is moving so fast right now,  that I savour these valuable coffee breaks - on my own and with myself - beneath the rain and away from the distracting knocks on my office door.

It's a beautiful day; life is beautiful. I am alive and blessed.


No comments: