The heat catches Dominic’s garden in its suffocating grip.
It’s a typical Cape Town summer, relieved only by an occasional sprinkle of rain. Puffy clouds rush over the mountain, then slowly evaporate. The sun is merciless and his garden is wilting.
Spit and Spot lie in the shade, then amble indoors and into the kitchen, their long tongues lapping at cool water.
Woody stems crack under his secateurs as Dominic prunes and deadheads, cuts back brittle bark, waiting for his summer garden to bloom bright.