As a child, I absolutely adored how the fruit trees outside my window would burst into bloom come September. It was like magic; dry branches one day, and a fairyland of colour the next.
I can still vividly remember how their sweet scent that would waft through my window on a warm Highveld breeze as I did my homework.
Another fond memory was visiting my grandparents. There was a narrow alley alongside their house that harboured an overgrown jasmine hedge.
Even before our fruit trees bloomed, when the August winds still blew, that hedge would transform into a cascade of pungent white flowers, their heady perfume saturating the air. It was especially beguiling at night; a promise of the spring to come.
When we still lived in Joburg, I would wait 10 months of the year for those eight-odd weeks when the jacaranda and (sadly invasive) syringa trees would don their bright new floral dresses.
I would throw open the windows and welcome the new season with gusto, even though it meant living with antihistamine nasal spray permanently attached to my nose.
Spring has taken some getting used to down here in the Garden Route. The landscape is an ever-changing patchwork of indigenous greens, with very few blossoming giant trees lining the roads and taking pride of place in people’s gardens.
We built our own house, and so inherited a wild plot of land with not much more than a few aloes and a small grove of keurboom trees.
I quickly realised if I was to once again enjoy the heavenly scents of my childhood, I’d have to plant them myself.
My grandfather was avid gardener, and passed his green fingers onto my mother, who later became a florist. I’m sure I inherited these green genes too, although perhaps more just the appreciation of all things green and flowery, as I have been known to even kill the hardiest of pot plants.
So although I have personally planned my new garden and bought some of the plants (the majority have been grown from slips), I can’t claim to have actually planted or tended much myself.
I have had a huge amount of help in that department, and the result is a gorgeous show of colour that now firmly announces the arrival of my favourite season!
After 18 months of very little rain, the Garden Route has been very dry. We were blessed with a solid day and night of rain in mid-September, after which the garden was positively smiling.
I just had to get out there with my camera and take a few shots of the rain-soaked blooms.
The kids took full advantage of the opportunity and joined me, getting very muddy in the process!
You can read more about their spring garden experience and some of the spring crafts for kids they made to welcome spring.
But for now, here’s my photographic tribute to sensational, sublime, splendid spring:
Wherever you are, I hope you have the chance to get outside and enjoy nature’s most spectacular show!
