There is a blustery wind blowing, and lightning flashing in a nearly-blue sky; Easter weather has come early. I guess we wont be going on the river this evening.
Instead we will sit on the lawn and watch the storm unfold, the flickerings reflected on the tossing, rushing water of the Mighty Zambezi.
This is my favourite time of day, evening, as the sun is setting and shadows grow long. Time to reflect on the day, and plan for tomorrow. A nostalgic time. Regret? Pride and satisfaction at a job well done? The dusty smell of wood smoke drifting in across the camp, and the nestling noises of birds getting ready for bed.
