One thing I miss here in
Here we have another palette. Bright cerulean skies, once the fog has burned off. Warm brown earth highlighted by swirling white trails of dust as a tractor ploughs. Bleached straw stubble, burnt black fields. Flaming orange flowers of the wilde dagga lit with sparks of emerald as the sun birds feast on its nectar. Deep blue of the ocean on one horizon, misty violets and indigos of the mountains on the other. A few more weeks and the green of winter will envelop the landscape, softening the harsh dryness.