A dead-give-away: those car registrations. From elsewhere…

Meaning: we’ve got visitors – travellers – to our beautiful town. And at what better time, than at autumn?

Quietly the lagoon invited us locals, and all the visitors to enjoy the balmy weather. Wading far in, ankle deep, would-be fishermen or ‘children’ of all ages forgot everything, by just enjoying the cushioned feeling of soft sand squishing between toes. Two dogs, chased each other or endeavoured to fetch the ball their owner (ankle deep in the water) threw repeatedly. Barking ecstatically, they vented their sheer joy. Living and cherishing The Moment, as we are all advised to do.

Past THE HEADS, famous beyond our country’s boundaries, four white sails, like romantic beacons, testified that this is a glorious time to venture far into the deep seas. How calm and safe the passage appeared…

Two young people, parking their car in the centre of town, hesitated a few moments before deciding on a direction. When asked whether we could help, they said that they (from the Eastern Cape) had never been in Knysna, and wanted to explore the town first before heading for the water. How wonderful to know that Knysna offers more than just water! They had already been to the Saturday Market – Wild Oats. On their list also appeared the museum, the Old Gaol Art Gallery, St. George’s Church and graveyard and the Waterfront. They wondered about The Old Fort…

The best lookout point? We supplied several, realising again how privileged we were to live in such a beautiful place – especially at this time of the year.

But autumn, generally, is the best time of the year to travel. Before winter with possible snow can disrupt airplane travelling schedules, or exceptionally cold or wet snatches turn your plans into survival mode, rather than cherished memories. Unless of course, you go skiing, or revel in Nature’s adverse moods, challenging her with your endurance qualities.

Summer, in many places, can be stiflingly hot often with added high humidity that may drain one’s energy.

Spring can be very unpredictable. Even if your heart is gladdened by beautiful spring flowers. Shivering, in several layers of clothing (some had to be purchased to add more protection), I tried warming my frozen hands (cushioned in angora gloves) by reciting William Wordsworth’s poem: The Daffodils, in a park in Edinburgh. The previous day, snow had still lain at the feet of the beautiful daffodils. I had always wanted to see daffodils growing, in Spring in England, having recited the poems (also Robert Herrick’s To Daffodils) at school.

THE DAFFODILS – William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils…

TO DAFFODILS - Robert Herrick

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon:
As yet the early-rising Sun
Has not attain’d his noon
Stay, stay
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song:
And, having pray’d together, we
Will go with you along …