McGregor is a tiny mid-nineteenth century village nestled at the foot of the Riviersondereind Mountains. It's a peaceful place of whitewashed and thatch roofed cottages. Cold water bubbles along irrigation furrows and wisteria and jasmine scent the air with their heavenly fragrance. Blossoming fruit trees, bougainvillea, roses and lavender provide patches of colour and birdsong is the loudest sound to be heard. Largely and thankfully undiscovered as yet, the road into and through the town is tarred but the remainder of the roads are still dirt. The preserved architecture is largely Cape Dutch with few modern buildings to spoil the appearance of the village.
This is one of the views from the far end of the town, where interestingly enough, the road just comes to an end, perhaps in some way accounting for the isolation of the village and its subsequent preservation.
While driving around, the light suddenly became extremely dramatic and this scene had me leaping enthusiastically out of the car.
And, speaking of dramatic, I don't know what words I could use to describe this wisteria, so I think I must let the picture speak for itself.
Imagine that you owned the key to this blue door. Imagine unlocking that door, pushing it open with your baguette and winebottle-laden basket and then imagine ...
Finally, as we were looking for our accommodation we saw this - tender pink daisies and sharp-edged grey stones, a striking combination.