Mount Ceder

At Mount Ceder time slows down.
By the river, you can drift in a quiet rowboat, feeling the air change as the sun edges lower. In the Cederberg, the sky feels bigger—clouds rolling in from far horizons like theatre curtains, ready to unveil the evening’s performance.

When the light touches the mountain, it turns a colour you can’t quite name—somewhere between gold and fire, a shade that belongs only to this place. The water mirrors it all, holding the moment still for just a breath longer.

I had to paint it. To catch the sun’s last embrace on the stone, the calm pulse of the river, the vast sky’s slow dance.

Mount Ceder is known for its olive oil. It is also a place I have come to know for its stillness and the sight of a mountain wearing its crown of light.

— DasWyf