We often go into the bush. Its normally a bush camp or a game reserve, with nothing for miles except fields of African grass, and indigenous trees and bushes. The grassland always takes my breath away with the sun catching the rich lustre of the golden colours, waving and swaying with the breeze.
If you sweep your eyes over the fields you will be treated to a glorious mix of colours, with pinks and greys, greens and yellows all blending in to make the colours of Africa. I love it. I drink it all in and want to lock the experience forever into my mind. There are many trees which stand as evidence of a fire which has ravaged the land not long before this day, and although the bush recovers fast, the stark grey branches rise up grotesque and yet beautiful.
There is a monkey sitting on the fence next to the dirt road. He is idly watching us with unconcerned interest, and his family are close by, all scampering up the trees as our vehicle passes.
I love to walk for ages through the bushveld, and then I get to smell the dust mixed with the freshness of nature. Some rain fell lightly on my head and shoulders as I walked, it was not the crashing loud alarming storms that so often lash across the sky and thunder down upon the earth as a deluge of rain pours down. Then the smells change to that lovely new rain wet earth smell you can only expereince in Africa. I wish I could describe all these sensations which meet my senses.
The high fences remind us though that this land is owned, chopped up into private property, and out of bounds for most of us.
Africa....I love it...
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