Sitting outside, enjoying the sounds an incoming storm. The wind as always, ungentle in its caress of the huge indigenous trees. Making their branches snap and crackle in protest. The leaves generating an unrelenting chorus of complaint. Seed pods clapping the ground as they fall. All lit, and framed by irregular bolts of lightening. The cacophony of back benching frogs celebrating what will be, a night of froggy passion. I love Africa.