I went up towards the old manganese mine from the East Fort on to the Hoerikwaggo trail and down again at the Blackburn Ravine.
In the morning light I could see the face of the guardian woman watching over the entrance of the bay.
The recent heavy rains had turned the mountain into a water world. At first the rocks looked like giant feet squeezing water out of the mountain.
Later there was water everywhere.
Water pouring down in a winter abundance-
racing towards the sea.
The gargling haste is in a stark contrast to the solid mountain, to the plants unable to move.
They are living where the wind has planted their seed. Satisfied with every drop of water falling onto them.
The tiniest flower found her place in a crevice of the rocks.
Water brings new life after the inferno of a mountain fire.
Proteas grow in an endless cycle of winter water, drought, fire and rebirth.
Today the mountain is wet and green.
Every plant is looking for attention. To get pollinated, to spread and to live on in this cycle of life.
The mountain stands solid. Everything is alive on its surface and I feel so alive, able to move, slowly following a meandering path.
