noons
As I stumbled along through the snowy undergrowth I kept longing for bright warm places . I thought of those long days on the veld when the earth was like a great yellow bowl , with white roads running to the horizon and a tiny white farm basking in the heart of it , with its blue dam and patches of bright green lucerne . I thought of those baking days on the east coast , when the sea was like mother-of-pearl and the sky one burning turquoise . But most of all I thought of warm scented noons on trek , when one dozed in the shadow of the wagon and sniffed the wood-smoke from the fire where the boys were cooking dinner . From these pleasant pictures I returned to the beastly present -- the thick snowy woods , the lowering sky , wet clothes , a hunted present , and a dismal future . I felt miserably depressed , and I could n't think of any mercies to count . It struck me that I might be falling sick .