Clover

 

Everything is wet and muddy after a week of heavy rain. More than 160mm in a few days. Everyone suspects that this is the start of the rainy season. We are not sure, though. Here too, the seasons (normally two wet and two dry seasons a year) are no longer clearly defined. They come later or earlier, they last longer or shorter, are drier or wetter. That causes concern in a country where a lot of people depend on agriculture.

But today a cautious sun peeps through the clouds. Time to do some work in the garden. The grass that still looked parched last week is already green again. Incredible how quickly that turns around. In the vegetable garden, I see that the weeds are growing faster than the tomatoes and beans. That needs some tidying up. There is so much clover among the mint that my next mojito might have a different flavour. That mint needs some breathing space. A little later, I am crouching among the mint. Hands full of mud, looking for the clover that has grown all the way between the mint.

On the other side of the garden, two hadeda scurry under the bushes. Those big, grey birds with an oily green shine on their wings and their hideous cries always remind me of King of Katoren. In the distance, I can hear the heavy traffic on the Poids Lourds. Trucks and motorbikes honking. In the neighbour's garden, I hear a child crying. My thoughts jump back and forth. I shouldn’t forget my colleague's birthday. That email still needs answering. Eggs and milk, which I have run out of. And my bike still has a flat tyre. I reach into a slug. The slimy feeling on my fingers brings me back to the mint. A finch sings “suskewit” lustily. At the other side, a Cape Robin-Chat sits whistling in a bush. A small, yellow frog jumps away. There is only mint...and clover.