In the summer months the afternoon thunderstorms grumble loudly over the peaks, and this lifegiving water allows the grasslands of the southern Drakensberg to grow a lush emerald green. Clusters of colourful cosmos, the beautiful protea and millions of wild flowers, tiny in size, but punching way above their weight in colour, punctuate the tapestry of the countryside. The myriad of birds, that make this area their summer home, add further depth to the natural beauty of this special place with a rainbow of iridescent hues.
Towards the end of March, the rains subside and while the days stay warm, the nights begin to cool, triggering a change as old as time. The bright green leaves of the old oak tree begin to turn red, and the grass slowly starts to shed its green of the summer for the dowdy, sandy browns of winter. The reds, yellows, greens and burnt oranges of autumn reach the crescendo of their display early into April, then slowly wane as the season moves unstopping towards winter.
Its now May in “the Berg”, much of the foliage of the old oak lies in a carpet of brown around its massive trunk. Soon, he will stand naked to face an inhospitable winter as he has done for decades before and the yellow leaves of the poplar tree rustle and twinkle in the breeze as they, too, eventually float to the ground.
Over the many years we have been visiting here, our family have marvelled at the exquisiteness of this natural paradise. Watched in awe as ferocious storms with angry lightning have drenched us, sat in wonderment as snow has fallen, and at night, with steaming mugs of coffee, we have lain on blankets and stared into an endless canopy of stars.
Now, as I approach my three score years, my wife and I come here alone, without the clamour of energetic children and I have become to appreciate yet another delicate facet of this little corner of the world, the silence.
The silence…. Not the sterile silence of a man-made sound booth, but a living silence, a silence that breaths with the subtle, harmonious sounds of nature in balance.
My ears, so attuned to the endless, jarring sounds of the city, hunt constantly for stimulation. As I sit, I can hear them whistle faintly as though my brain has turned up the gain to maximum to hear what it always hears. I pause and like a photographer who looks to actually see, I listen, really listen, and immerse myself in the wintery symphony of natural sound.
During the day, I hear the romantic, soothing calls of the grey ring-necked dove accompanied by the water in the cold mountain stream as it trips quietly over smooth round stones on its endless journey downwards. Together they provide the rhythmic undertones to the whistles of the red winged starling and the chatter of many small, colourless, birds that will stay for the cold months. Every now and again, I hear the mournful tone of the wind swirling around the peaks and the staccato bark of a baboon sentry as they make their contribution to the rainbow of sound. Then, enter the hadeda, the hadada ibis, prehistoric, with its call demanding its place at the table, loud and unapologetically discordant, but not offensive as one of the indigenous inhabitants of this region.
In the cool of the onset of winter, the evenings are deathly still. Sitting next to my braai fire, I hear the distant yapping of a solitary black-backed jackal but not much else. The crackle of the dry thorn wood fire is loud in the stillness.
During the wet summer months, the days pulse with the endless calls of colourful birds and the nights are alive with the metronome like sounds of millions of frogs and insects that make the grassy wetlands their home.
The discovery of the silence, ever changing in its depth and complexity, has allowed me to fully enjoy the complete offering of this place. Wrapping myself in it and staying in the moment has been the elixir I have so desperately needed. I feel energised, creative, but not ready to leave the solitude that the mountains provide. However, as they have for millions of years, they will always be here for me, to lose myself in and, even for the briefest moments, to experience a simpler life, a richer life, where realising the silence, and not the money, house or car, is the measure of my wealth and success.
The silence……
