Aloes and pasture lands

Cow bells and goat bells, shepherd's shouts and whistles, and wind across the deforested hillsides make a kind of mountain music. Lesotho had been in the grip of a six-month drought, and on this very day in October, the rains started. People came running out of their houses and danced in dust pocked with dark craters: raindrops. Women ululated, children squealed. Spring had finally arrived. Maybe the small garden plots would bear a bit of food: some carrots and cabbage, a few ears of corn, some chard and a few peas. Hallelujah.