Jubilating mountain

Yesterday I went for a walk on the mountain in the rain. Nothing happened and everything happened. It rained, the sun crashed through the clouds, the birds woke up and the streams on top of the mountain ululated. Waterfalls burst out of rocks and the sun diamond-cut the water that just a moment before had been needled by raindrops.

I don't think I've ever seen so many orange-breasted sunbirds in one spot. As the sun hit the rain-drenched Saddle below Devils Peak they went crazy for a quick spell of sunny nectar feeding. Their emerald green heads glittered in the sunlight as they pecked into velvety pink proteas, then whistled up on the breeze and danced away to the next protea bush.

A sugarbird sat on top of a sugar bush like the star of Bethlehem, his long tail feathers adding a streaking comet. Then more rain clouds billowed over the Saddle and the act was over.

I got within an arm's length to this orange-breasted sunbird
holding my small Canon Ixus in my hand.

There are times when I lie in my bed and listen to the rain and think it is really impossible to get up and go for a walk in the rain. But then the magical happens in a moment of sunshine and it's that memory that will pull me out from under my duvet on the next rainy Sunday morning.

I don't know what this is, but love the
colours. Can't wait to go and see
what has unfurled in a week or two.

Jubilation on the Saddle.