Near the sleepy little town of Eshowe in the Natal Midlands runs a dusty corrugated road that snakes and twists its way up through the humid canefields , around whitewashed and ornately decorated mud huts and kraals. As it winds through the thickets of pine and fields of maize you will find prancing goats watched by whistling schoolboys kicking stones and as the road gets higher up and steep the terrain changes becoming more rugged until all of a sudden in the distance framed by an old rusting steel bridge, you will see a sign, like a huge J. This would signal the start of another twisted snaking road, which leads up to an old Victorian farmhouse, abandoned, with its once neat garden thriving with weeds and menacing thistles. An edgy lizard darts around after jumping grasshoppers as a cat stalks a cane rat that hides in the thick snake infested brush. Inside the house the walls are adorned with peeling yellowing wallpaper and its wooden floors puckering up at the edges. In its bedrooms you sometimes find in the haunting moonlight hiding from the crisp night air a snoring vagrant or coiled up near the fireplace a puff adder, fat from its last kill.. The kitchen is cold and musty, its oregan counters thick with dust and its old cold stove dark and lifeless. It wasn't always like this for just 30 years ago the stove had a fire raging in it and a pot boiling on it whilst an old greying lady rolled pastry on the counter tops and sang old Nepalese folk songs. Near the window, a bespectacled man sat reading a book and jerked to life every now and again as he nodded off to sleep.Under the huge Mahogany table, a small boy would sit playing with wooden blocks, his green eyes focussed intently on his latest creation.His eyes would light up as his grandmother singing and wiggling her hips would wink at him and giggle. The little boy Luke would run outside and chase grasshoppers and dig for worms.He would fight imaginary dragons and banish ogres into the enchanted forest, his brown hair bouncing and left arm swinging a wooden sword at evil pirates.Loud shrills would pierce the afternoon air as he picked up a worm and showed it to the female farm hands. He would stand up on a red rock raise his sword, announcing himself the saviour of the world feeling the wind course through his hair then abruptly jump off the rock and ride an imaginary horse called"Goldy" and ride it into the house where his grandfather would offer it a carrot pickled relish. The summer nights were even more exciting for the boy , as he stalked glowworms and sprang upon a cat fat from a meal of cane rat anf watch as it hair stood up and it hissed loudly. A quick swing of the sword and the cat would vanish into the darkness. The boy would sit on the stoep and eat cool watermelon and listen to his grandfather play his cello. His eyes sparkled and he felt immense joy. Summer was hot and long filled with adventure and bliss, but Summer did not last forever and the end would be signalled by a dust cloud coming rapidly towards the house. He would run and hide under the table as a man with a long ponytail and a beautiful woman with a cigarette from her mouth would emerge from a green Ford stationwagon . The man, his father would loudly call for him,"Moffie, come here," as a puddle of urine grew under the table.The boy quivered in fear as his father dragged him out. He saw his mother's stomach was large as she coughedloudly and lit another cigarette. The boys green eyes became dull and sad. His summer was over and his Winter had returned.