The Hills Are Alive!

Clouds have been coming and going all day lately.  It's like the sun is playing peek-a-booh with us.

…With the sound of rain. As seasons change across the planet, they change here as well. And as cold long nights seem to always prelude blossoms and morning dew, Spring has emerged in the Khomas Mountains.

The rain has started and affected the most vibrant changes in this desert world. Life seems to pour from every drop as grasses spring from the dirt, leaves pop from dry branches and every manor of creature wakes from its winter slumber. The birds sing outside my window each morning with the passion and talent of a church choir. Their colorful songs herald a new season of bounty and life.

But the rain does not come like it does in the States. It’s unpredictable, scattered and lurid. Storm fronts build on the horizon, beckoning but rarely delivering on hopes of rain. However, once in a while a lonely cloud does find its way to your way, and as the humidity spikes and the birds hide you prepare for that impending splendor. High winds build big, fat water drops which course through the air, bludgeoning the dirt like asteroids on a far away moon. Microscopic organisms spring to life and fill the air with that universal aroma that heightens the spirit and calms the sole. Thunder sounds as percussion, adding to the winds and reeds that have already began the chorus; “Here comes the rain! Come life! Come drink and grow!”

You can see the recent growth on these trees.  This is literally two days of growth.  The saying "watching the grass grow" has a different connotations here...

The world shrinks as distant objects loose visibility and importance. Water does its work cleansing the plaque of sticky dryness and freeing all of life from this harsh climate, if only for just this one moment. Grasses bulge like sponges, leaves curl like bowls and water gathers as this world braces itself against time.

Then it stops. The desert orchestra moves on like a marching band, brining its message of song and dance to another crowd. The craters in the dirt remain as evidence that this dusty garden was graced, if only for minutes, with a smile from Mother Nature. The leaves struggle to hold on to their sacred bits of nourishment as the sun emerges to watch. The moisture leaves the air as every living thing claims its share. The birds emerge again, singing their songs of gratitude, playing.

And such is the Spring in the Khomas Mountains. It’s a time when greys and golds give way to greens, purples and reds; a time when shrubs and trees do all their growing in as short a time as possible; a time of youth, fragility and splendor.

It’s my first Spring in Namibia, and I love it.