Listening to the trees, wearing a skateboard helmet…

Living in Joburg we never hear the trees.  Know what I mean? Unless you live in a giant Westcliff estate or drive a convertible, the magical whooshing and plastic-y clicking sound of new, green leaves moving in the wind is not something we hear much.  I realised this yesterday on a  bike ride through the suburbs.  High walls, clichéd barking dogs and beautiful spring trees, lining the streets and making their whooshing, clicking, rustling sound that gave me goose bumps and a warm heart.  Ameezing.

Also, I own a skateboard helmet now.  Safety first.  Except when your head is so huge a bicycle helmet looks like a polystyrene growth on Paul the Alien.  So now I wear a slightly less stylistically offensive skateboard helmet.

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