Suddenly bougainvillas blaze red, purple, brick, white.
Coral trees (Erythina caffra) burst into red flame. Clivias delight but only for a few short weeks. 
My oak is too impatient for the last withered leaf to fall. The tender green leaves unfurl overnight, pushing the dry foilage off the branches, littering the courtyard.
Petunia trees line streets in more delicate pink and white. By mid morning the blue sky is hazy with fine dust swirled around by late August winds.
Last weekend I was in winter woolies; this Saturday I am in sandals, camisoles and cotton skirts. Pass the suncream, darl!
Soon it will be the jakarandas and the breathless wait for the early rains.
Nothing in South Africa comes in half measures - the bad and the good; the ugly and the glorious; the hope and the sometimes despair. That is why those of us who have chosen the beloved country as our forever home love it so much with old-fashioned passion, commitment and faith.
God bless South Africa and grant her and her people peace!
N'kosi sikelele, Africa!
God bless South Africa and grant her and her people peace!
N'kosi sikelele, Africa!
Written in exile from South Africa
Hibiscus was red
(It grew by my window)
And salvia,
Pointsettias
The spikes of aloes,
And the coral tree
In flaring splendour.
Here there are flowers,
Frail lives of loveliest name,
Daffodils, primroses, daisies,
Fritillaries, buttercups.
But nowhere in England,
That pagan colour,
Nowhere that red
That flamed by my window.
by Charles Ould.
