Here in London, after a long Indian summer, it has finally turned to autumn. One’s mind turns automatically to autumns past enjoyed, and I can’t help but think of that splendid season in the Western Cape. Of course, as the recent coverage of the royal visit to Australia reminds us, it’s not autumn at all in the Southern Hemisphere but rather warm and summery.
The other day, however, I stumbled across this photo on Flickr depicting two girls promenading past Grosvenor House after a fine day’s shopping. Grosvenor House, first built by Christian Ludolph Neethling in 1782 and achieving its current appearance in 1803, is one of the finest examples of the flat-roofed patrician town house in South Africa.
My most memorable aspect of South Africa is colour. The entire palette of the Western Cape changes with the seasons from the faded shades and muffled tones of the autumn to the luxurious verdant growth and red-brown soil of the spring and summer.
I find I miss the rainy days in Stellenbosch, donning the Doc Martens for the slippery walk to the J.S. Gericke-biblioteek for a day’s research or down Dorpstraat to De Akker for a pint of Hansa and perhaps a bit of Rhodesian blend in the pipe while you finger through the old India-paper edition of Boswell’s Life of Dr. Johnson or the latest Hungarian Quarterly.
Still more one misses those days clothed in glorious radiant sunshine: the dappled light shining through the trees as you spend an afternoon with friends, sampling a few wines at Boschendal, or the stark assault of brightness as you rest on the sands at Clifton or Gordonsbaai. It sounds trite but is nonetheless true that South Africa is fine in any season.