21 Jun 2010 • 1,301 views
Winter has arrived on the mountain; it came in last Wednesday. Most mornings now I sip steaming hot tea on the veranda and shiver. The dogs choose not to join me, their baskets are too warm and the cats only watch through the window. The sunlight is very pale, long fingers through the trees which fade before they reach the ground.
But it's peaceful, these hours before the farm erupts with noise. It's coffee picking time and that means the workforce swells by about two thousand people, casual workers who come in daily from the local villages and take up residence on the shamba (farm).
But the farm is mine in these early hours. Sometimes I have to share it with the 'crazy man', a strange chap who lives nearby and likes to walk around the fields banging a piece of tin very loudly. No idea why he does it. Not sure he knows.
He didn't wake me this morning though, it was the hooting of a Giant Eagle Owl that startled me from sleep. He's taken up residence in the large tree in our garden and watches us with curious eyes. But now it's utterly quiet and still, the only sound being the breeze coming through the shell mobile hanging from the wooden beam. The mountain looms large and somewhat forbidding with its icy cap. And once again I forget where I am for just the perfect moment.