African summer morning


It is truly summer now on the southern tip of Africa.
Daytime temperatures have broken the 38C (100F) numerous times already.
Yesterday was another one of those hot days.

Suddenly, as if I have missed a month or two, the sun has nearly reached its southern most point, the tropic of Capricorn, also called the summer solstice.
At five in the morning she rises into the coolness, 20C (68F), of the waning night, greeted by the red-chested Cuckoo’s call and the laughing doves cu-cu-roo-cuuing while the southern Boubou entices her with his melodious voice. It is not a silent time and yet it is a quiet time. Wagtails, Robins, Thrushes, Bulbuls, Sparrows, Masked Weavers, Amethyst Sunbirds and Hadeda’s abound. The swallows are doing acrobatics in the sky. A faint breeze rustles the green leaves as they catch the first rays of sun. The lawn is refreshingly wet and cool to walk on barefoot and all the birds find something on the green carpet or in the bushes to eat. I sit by my fountain like I did last night when it was illuminated by solar light and I let the new day dawn on me. Each drop of water brings the sun higher into the sky.

It is a glorious time of the year.
The garden is expressing its joy in the most wonderful colours and shapes. If someone would ask me if green is one of the primary colours I would absolutely affirm it, and yet red, yellow and blue are.
Days flow into nights and into days again as summer winds its magic through our lives. The fountain of summer gives abundantly as if to say, “Drink to your hearts content, my partner the winter is having a rest.” Disbelieving I look at the garden that there once was winter where now there is not even a memory of it anymore. Such is life. Thankfully I embrace the summer and forget the winter. Thankfully I remember the good times and mostly forget the bad and difficult ones.

As I take a deep sip from my cool jug of water I feel life invigorating me and summer blessing me. If I had nothing and was given a chance to choose amongst many things I would choose summer first and then everything else. What would life be without the beauty and fruition of summer? Nature knew all too well that summer days should be the longest days of the year.

Give me sixty hours in a summer day
 and I will write you poetry for fifty-nine
 the other hour I will sing to you
 as I prepare another rhyme

My words like a mountain stream will flow
 and their story breathlessly embraces you
 summer days and summer nights will glow
 now that I've found what I know is true 

Give me ninety hours in a summer day
 and I will play for eighty-nine
 one hour lovingly I will fill my heart 
 sending you this dearest gift of mine

My eyes in awe another summer day will see
 and every moment addictively I fill my soul
 summer, without you I could never be
 you give my life, a reason and a goal

Give me a lifetime of summer days
 I would dream for all but one
 One day I would spend in gratitude
 Wishing you are never gone

mornings – or the gift of time

Which other period of the day has the gift of time like the morning?

If I rise at four and go about my business I am never running late. Even when I get entirely absorbed in some activity and forget time, – when I look at the clock again, thinking, “gosh it must be late,” it is not half-past-six, no, it is ten-to-five. Quite unbelieving I can settle back relaxed and continue once more with my activity without any stress. And even if I feel the need to check again after a while, true to its promise to give me time, it will still not be half-past-six.

Early mornings miraculously give me the gift of time.
Don’t many of us just snooze through this period totally oblivious to its potential? When eventually we leave sleep behind we most likely are already running late. That means we are behind in time. We are trailing not leading. Having given the day no opportunity to present us with its gift we will conceivably never catch up during this day and because everything is late, and by some universal law just gets later as time goes by, the next morning sees little chance of presenting us with its gift either as we need to catch up on some sleep.

The morning presents me with a credit in time. Fortunately I have realised this early in my life already so I’ve made use of that ‘free’ present quite extensively.

I ask myself why would I not want to receive that present gracefully?
Somewhat greedily, hungry for more time, I look around if I can find more than one morning in a day. Maybe there are, I am still looking, based on the idea where there is one there must be more.

I do know about the relativity of time however. Some times are longer than other times, but, according to the clock they are the same time. I didn’t invent the clock, but if I would have, I know I would have not come up with something so pedantically accurate, monotonously torturous, boringly consistent, ridiculously invasive, stubbornly un-negotiable and unbearably, frustratingly unstoppable.

Maybe time exists? It’s supposedly one of the building blocks of the universe. Time and space. That’s according to man in his infinite wisdom. Hah.
But the clock can hardly be called an ingenious invention as far as inventions go. Inventions usually give me something. What does the clock give me? Time? You must be joking!

That is all besides the point now because contrary to popular belief, as I have found out, you can actually get some time back.
The earlier the mornings I can manage, the more credit I have in my time account.
And there is no currency that comes close to time. I am a ‘timelonaire,’ yeah, yeah!

Four o’clock going on half-past-three.