Hello from the Other Side

Notes on returning home and winter in Africa.

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and a talk beside the fire." — Edith Sitwell

I landed back in South Africa last week after eight years away, stepping off the plane from the humid warmth of Thailand into the sharp, unexpected bite of a Western Cape winter. In Thailand, “cold” meant you reached for a long-sleeved shirt in the evening. Here, in Moorreesburg, “cold” means mornings that hover at 2 to 5 degrees, breath fogging in the air, and the kind of chill that makes you grateful for every patch of sunshine.

The days climb reluctantly into the mid-teens, but there’s a softness at the edges of winter now, a whisper that spring is waiting in the wings. The peach trees in my sister’s garden are budding, and wildflowers are starting to appear along the roadside. The air is still crisp, but it carries the faint scent of new beginnings.

Moorreesburg, an hour from Cape Town, is surrounded by rolling wheat and canola fields. At this time of year, the wheat is still green, but soon it will turn gold, and the harvest will begin. The town even has its own Wheat Industry Museum, one of only three in the world, a nod to the deep roots of farming here.

September will bring the annual agricultural expo, one of the biggest events on the local calendar. I’m looking forward to wandering through the cattle and sheep pens, seeing the different breeds up close, admiring gleaming farm machinery, and sampling all the good food on offer.

This is where I was born and where I went to primary school, a place that feels at once smaller and larger than I remember. Smaller, because my feet now cover in minutes the distances that felt vast as a child. Larger, because memory adds layers, people, moments, seasons, to every street and corner.

For now, I’m staying with my sister, reacquainting myself with the rhythm of small-town life: the local bakery’s fresh bread, conversations that start with “Remember when…?”, the way the sky feels impossibly wide at sunset.

After so many years in tropical heat, the cold here is a shock, but it’s also a kind of awakening. Winter slows you down, sharpens your senses, and makes you notice the little things: the warmth of a cup of tea, the weight of a wool scarf, the first brave bloom pushing through frost.

It feels good to be home.