Quivers on Fire — Into the Wild | The Story

Some evenings in Africa seem to burn slowly into the night.

It was late August in Keetmanshoop, Namibia. Winter had dried the grass to gold, the air was warm and still, and the sky was almost completely clear. Along the horizon, the August wind had lifted a veil of dust and sand, catching the last light of the day.

The sun was falling fast.

Then, for a few fleeting moments, it became a ball of fire.

Its light caught the crowns of the quiver trees, turning their rosettes a deep, glowing red. Beneath them, the sky softened into pink and orange, while the distant forest seemed to disappear into the haze.

Two great quiver trees stood before me.

The larger, heavier trunk on the left reminded me of a man. Beside him, a slender tree reached to almost the same height. Their crowns touched gently, their fiery rosettes almost meeting in a kiss goodnight.

Beyond them, hundreds more quiver trees stretched across the landscape, fading into the distance.

But these two were different.

For a few moments, they seemed to hold the last embers of the day between them.

The birds were beginning their evening chorus. Somewhere beneath the trees, crickets and the first creatures of the night were stirring. Day was giving way to darkness, slowly and without ceremony.

I had almost missed it.

Perhaps that is why the moment stayed with me.

The light lasted only minutes before the fire faded from the trees and the desert settled into night.

Some moments are not meant to be held for long. Only noticed.

Quiver Tree Forest, Keetmanshoop, Namibia.