These early morning clouds over Thatchwick Cottage are tufts of cottonwool. A wet weekend is forecast for Johannesburg and Pretoria. Our spirits have already been lifted by some spring rain which has given a green sheen to the brittle, yellow veld grass. The prospect of more rain is a great conversation opener with all and sundry: the petrol attendant at the garage, shop assistants in the mall, casual passersby on my early morning walk, Unisa colleagues and friends.
Pretoria afternoon by Anthony Delius is a poem about summer thundershowers.
There leans on the horizon's fence
a slow explosion of heat,
that towers white, grotesque, immense,
above the end of Schoemann Street.
The grieving jacaranda trees,
each on its bruise of fallen flowers,
are withered senators whose pleas
rouse no one in a fatal hour.
The dark mechanic roads run by-
the petals drip on them in vain-
and self-absorbed the black wheels ply
their way with a strange sound of rain.
But vast now in the passiate skies
a praying-mantis reaches down
stretching its pious claws to seize
the helpless insect of the town.
Scared refugees of light and shade
flee west across the startled hills,
men stare from shelters they have made,
feel earth grow stronger that their wills.
The dry earth cracks - and through it comes
a black tremendous man who's dressed
in plumes and ox-tails, urged by drums
with spears of lightning in his fist.
Join me this Skywatch Friday at the corner of my street in Brooklyn, Pretoria, South Africa. Ignore the busy traffic; just gaze at that pale-blue sky washed clean by early morning rain. Enjoy the deep leafy green of the jacarandas, their mauve glory shed. Trace the patterns their shadows have cast on the tarmac.
Wishing you just a little bit o' blue sky this Skywatch Friday! This is the same scene that graced my banner in October with purple splendour.
Take a moment to stand under the shrubbery in my garden and wonder at the exotic flower on the banana tree.
The first time the leafy banana tree has borne fruit. Not ripe yet, but I shall enjoy truly organic bananas in January.
Dear Friend, wherever you are, whoever you are, step into my misty early morning garden. It is my secret haven, my safe place, my retreat - but you are most welcome too. Sit down and enjoy the c0lours painted with such taste by the Great Artist. Feast on the mysterious geometry of branch and leaf. Let the beauty of my shady dell refresh you and renew you.
What will the early morning clouds above Thatchwick bring on this Friday? I suspect the sun will disperse them by nine and temps will rise to over 30 degrees C. Late afternoon the thunder will roll, lightening will crack in crooked flashes across the sky and the rain will pour down on weary motorists travelling home. 
I caught the dying sun setting yesterday evening at about 18h:30.
Cloudless skies over the geometric shapes of the buildings of my alma mater and the university where I have been teaching for twenty-two years. The University of South Africa, fondly known as UNISA to hundreds of thousands of alumni, including Nelson Mandela.
The admin block at Unisa. Teaching is done through distance education (mainly print, but rapidly changing to hi-tech).
Pretoria lies in a mauve haze as the jakaranda trees flaunt their glorious blossoms in honour of Persephone. In the far distance are the stately sandstone Union Buildings, the seat of the administrative section of the government of South Africa.
The skyline of down town Pretoria where shoppers bustle under mauve pools of shade.
The view from the 10th floor of the Theo van Wjik Building at Unisa. 
Not true to his water-loving breed, Trist prefers to look on with just a hint of a tolerant smile.
