September - a month between moons. If it was March we could have called it Many Weathers. But here in the southern hemisphere we watched September behave with adolescent confusion as winter turn to spring.
There was heat, and then rain, followed by wind, and clouds, and finally the haze of early summer. Trees sprang flowers from dessicated branches filling the air with scent.
The monkeys left the roof to investigate and feast on the tiny pompom plumes of the acacia trees. There were giraffe about the place doing the same thing. Its strange how its easier to see a giraffe thats far away than one thats just about to step on your feet.
Our month was one of travel. Meetings here and there, and things to be done in far flung places. We drove and drove from south east to north west. Like a pendulum that has reached its furthers extension, we were there a few hours before we turned and headed back again.We diced with twilight donkeys, and lumbering cattle herds on their way home to the kraals. We dodged potholes - some of which are made worse by donkeys and goats that eat the calcrete beneath the tar. Alongside the road one of Africa's greatest rivers ran like a wise and patient elder spreading life giving tendrils to the kalahari sands.
There is upheaval everywhere - riots and strikes, and authority figures being challenged; systems threatening to crumble. Everywhere we look there are crimes against the planet. Outrage simmers below the surface breaking through in geysers of fury. These are times of change. We have to care.
Here on this continent, our wild things are under seige. The ancient remnants of jurassica are facing wholesale slaughter. If its not contained soon, very soon, our biodiversity will be safe in story books only. From tortoises, and crickets, through splendid birds, marine life and plants all the way to super predators, elephants and rhinos. Its happening right now. Here, and all about.
To all those working tirelessly and at great personal risk to preserve our wild things - THANK YOU
It is incredible to think that those giant planetary forces that swirl about beyond the reaches of our cosy blue dome of sky, and beyond our imaginations, can have such an effect on us all. Our comfort zone is a tiny bubble of blue in an infinity of darkness and dust. Frankly, moving to Mars does not appeal to me at all. We could spend some of the space exploration budgets on taking care of home.