Editor's Echo: Autumn whispers through the valley
There is a quiet sort of magic that settles over the Lowveld this time of year.
The mornings arrive with a soft chill, the kind that makes you pause for a moment longer before stepping out, steaming coffee in hand, watching mist curl across the veld like an old friend returning for a seasonal visit. By midday, the sun finally warms the skin, golden and generous, but never too harsh. It is as if autumn knows exactly how to hold back, never rushing, never demanding too much.
Across the valley and into the foothills of the escarpment, trees begin their slow, poetic transformation. While the rest of the country thinks of autumn as reds and browns, here we are graced with something altogether different. The wild pear trees burst into ghostly white blossoms. The flame trees still hold a hint of their summer fire, and in some gardens frangipanis and bougainvilleas bloom defiantly, as if unaware the seasons are changing.
Then come the sunsets.
It is difficult to explain a Lowveld autumn sunset to someone who hasn’t stood beneath one. They are long, lingering affairs, drenched in amber, coral, and mauve. The Makhonjwa Mountains cast deep purple silhouettes, and the sky glows as though lit from within. It is the kind of beauty that slows the breath and hushes the day’s noise. Even the birds seem to fall silent for a moment.
I’ll admit, I’m not a winter person. I long for spring’s optimism and summer’s bright chaos. But autumn, I’ve come to realise, asks nothing of us except that we notice. It doesn’t shout for attention, it gently taps at the window, points to the shifting light, and invites us to look up.
There’s a lesson in that. In a world that so often demands more, faster, louder….. autumn arrives to show us the beauty of less. The clarity that comes with cooler air. The elegance of trees letting go. The power of stillness.
So while I may mourn the loss of longer days, I cannot ignore the splendour this season brings to our part of the world. The De Kaap Valley wears autumn like a silk shawl, subtle, graceful, and full of stories. All we need to do is listen.
