CLIMATE CALAMITY

Another perfect Midlands day…
(Photos : Leigh Willson)

“Without doubt, today was the crossover between autumn and winter.”

Summerhill is magnificent right now, clothed in a contrast of greens, golds and rubies, that splendid mid-point between the unrivalled spectacle of our autumn weather, and the onset of our winter chills. We woke this morning to another perfect Midlands day; the floors of the valleys shrouded in mist, and the Drakensberg stretching away for 90kms to Sani Pass. There’s no finer sight in all of creation.

There’s something though, in the cosmic wonder that engineers the metamorphosis between the rising sun and the crystallising of the dew, so we knew what was coming when Saturday morning shivered with the stabs of a Southerly breeze. Historically, we came to expect the first frosts any time from the onset of April, but in the past five years, it’s generally been somewhere between May Day and the 10^th of this month. The “Greens” tell us the delay has to do with the melting of the Arctic ice cap, but for those who are lucky enough to live here, the month’s respite means we squeeze another thirty salubrious days out of autumn; even then, when the first frost has arrived, there’s usually another fortnight or so’s “breather” before the mornings are regularly greeted with sub-zeros.

As we drove through the floor of the valley on our way to our first meeting at 6:30 this morning, the temperature gauge touched -3°, and we knew we were in for it. Winter was here, and in minutes the farm resembled the inside of a freezer box. The one thing about a frosty morning is that you’re guaranteed a perfect day when it’s melted, and as we pen this piece, we’re headed for the mid 20s on the centigrade scale. While there will be those who will always lament the beginning of winter, there’s one certainty about it all, and that’s that the scourge of African Horse Sickness is no longer. The frosts destroy the midges that carry the disease, and those regions that have suffered the odd casualty because of it, can sigh a collective relief. All being well, we can look forward to the lifting of our export restrictions, and to a new dawn for South African horses racing abroad.

www.summerhill.co.za

THE RHYTHM OF THE SEASONS

The season’s first snows on the Drakensberg Mountains
(Photo : Leigh Willson)

“When were you last in the KZN Midlands?”

Looking at occupancies at Hartford House, it’s apparent that ever more, travellers are wanting a piece of this enchanted kingdom. There is a magic to this place, not only in its natural scenic splendour, but in the colours that herald the changes to the seasons. No time is better though than the autumn, when the mornings are crisp, the sky is blue, and you can see forever.

If you’re “horsey”, you’ll know that its yearling prep time, and if you’re familiar with Summerhill, you’d be expecting us to be busy with the weaning of foals and the beginnings of the old ritual of teaching our Ready To Run candidates the ropes.

Haydn Bam’s agric unit is frantically baling up the last of the hay, and his tractor pilots have been grinding away in the dark before dawn through the twilight of the evening; discing, harrowing and planting. The welfare of the horses is paramount at Summerhill, as you know, and all this activity is part of the stocking up of the larder for winter, with more than 350 hectares of emerald rye grass, targa oats and a salad of fescue, cocksfoot, white and red clovers, and the lavender of the grazing vetch.

And by the way, we had our first snow yesterday morning, not on the farm, but on the nearby Drakensberg mountains. I said at the beginning, autumn is famous for its blue skies and long views, but you’ll forgive us our joy at the good rain and the full moon brought overnight. Without it, those paddocks beyond the irrigators, would not yield the bounty we would expect in this part of the world from our winter crops. Townspeople are often oblivious to it, but there’s a reason you get spring tides at both ends of the moon’s spectrum, and even in the dead of winter, you can expect a little moisture when the moon is either full or in its newest phase. That’s why those who live by the stars, tell you to plant by the moon.

Enquiries :
Linda Norval +27 (0) 33 263 1081
or email linda@summerhill.co.za
www.summerhill.co.za

HOT AIR BALLOONING ABOVE SUMMERHILL AND HARTFORD

Click above to view photos of Summerhill and Hartford from the air…
(Photographer : Leigh Willson)

“Suddenly the wind ceased.
The air seemed motionless around us. We were off.”

Views of Summerhill Stud and Hartford House whilst Hot Air Ballooning above the
KwaZulu-Natal Midlands! This is just one of the many unique experiences Hartford can arrange
while you are staying with them.

“Suddenly the wind ceased. The air seemed motionless around us.
We were off, going at the speed of the air-current in which we now lived and moved.
Indeed, for us there was no more wind; and this is the first great fact of spherical ballooning.
Infinitely gentle is this unfelt motion forward and upward.
The illusion is complete: it seems not to be the balloon that moves,
but the earth that sinks down and away…”

- Alberto Santos-Dumont, My Air-Ships, 1904.

www.hartford.co.za

KZN MIDLANDS AUGUST SNOW PHOTOS

Please click above to view photos of the August Snows…
(Photos: Leigh Willson)

“If you’re a tourist, the precincts of Mooi River
resemble a Winter Wonderland.”

The scene is quite surreal: on the one hand, there are bulldozers, TLBs, tractors and trailers buzzing up and down; entire staff outside of those essential to the welfare of the horses and the comfort of the Hartford guests, chain-sawing, pulling and dragging debris about, while the roads and roadsides are littered with tourists, snow fighting, building snowmen and generally believing that this is the best time ever.

“The cost in the end runs to millions.”

www.summerhill.co.za

A GIFT FROM THE HEAVENS

Summerhill Stallion Barn under light Autumn Snow
(Photo : Leigh Willson)

“This fall is a godsend.”

We all know how destructive snow can be when it comes down heavily, as it did after the sale of two former Durban July winners, Tecla Bluff and Devon Air in 1996. It was as if the gods were objecting, and in parts of our district, the snow lay more than two feet deep. But when it comes in a few inches, as we woke to see yesterday morning, it brings the first moisture ahead of the spring, and it sprinkles our paddocks and pastures with a liberal dose of ‘free’ nitrogen.

We’ve mentioned it before, that despite the Midlands’ reputation for its beautiful indigenous forests of Yellowoods, White Stinkwoods and Cape Chestnuts, the reality is these occur only on the Southern and Western-facing slopes of the valleys. The bulk of the territory was hitherto great, open savannah country, with millions of acres of waving veld, perfect for the big grazing herds of red hartebeest, eland and the black wildebeest.

It was only when the European settlers first arrived here in the early 1820s that the trees you see so many of these days on your travels through our region, were first imported. Those that came from Australia were not built for snow, so that when it comes down heavily, the gums and the wattles take strain, and they shed their boughs, and often their trunks, by the drove. By contrast, those of European origin, the conifer and the cedar varieties, carry their burden with equanimity. In 1996, if you were driving past a grove of gum trees at the hight of that snowstorm, it sounded like the Great War’s Battle of Delville Wood, with the sound of gunshot banging off every few seconds as another branch or limb dismembered itself. Destruction was everywhere, and our workshop roofs collapsed under the weight of tons of the white fluff, squashing Mercedes lorries, Massey Ferguson tractors and any number of expensive implements underneath.

There were tribes of Englishmen trapped in the vicinity, those who’d attended the broodmare sale, and for them to tell us this was by far the biggest snowfall they’d witnessed, was some statement.

As for the horses, they are far from deterred; on the contrary, they’re invigorated by the change, and to illustrate this, we go back once again to 1996, when on the first morning, we brought them all into the stables. The following day, when we went out to gather them in again, they would have none of it, and we had no chance of catching those galloping around the paddocks, weighed down as we were by our gumboots.

For the time-being though, and for as long as it’s not too heavy, we can rejoice. This fall is a godsend, and will set us up for a decent spring, and a productive foaling season.

View more photos on the Summerhill Facebook page :

facebook.com/SummerhillStudSA