I must live in the coldest town in Africa. If someone could get on that research and let me know if I’m right, I would greatly appreciate it though right now the thought isn’t comforting in the least.

It snowed last week for the first time leaving a nice blanket over everything, including the road. That made for a mess with transportation. For a while no one was going anywhere.

I managed to get a ride with the lodge vehicle as it headed back up from a re-stocking trip. That drive re-instilled a love for Lesotho that might have otherwise gone astray. The mountains were a beautiful white, the ledges had sheets of ice and ice sickles hanging from them and they danced with the beautiful colors of the setting sun. This can’t sound dramatic enough. The sky’s colors morphed from the solid blues of the short day to shades of orange, reds, and pinks melding together; this was something a picture or a painting could never recreate.

Just up on Thaba Putsoa, the highest peak you pass as you head to Semonkong, gave the greatest viewpoint for the sky as it met the earth. Touching just below the horizon the whole sky blew up into all shades of reds emanating from that one point and fading away toward our destination.