Short Days, Strong Hands: Farming an Eastern Cape Winter

Winter is creeping in slowly, and the signs are unmistakable. The air grows drier each morning — thinner. Stepping outside becomes a battle of will. Yet it is exactly that edge that calls me. I am driven by the dream, and by the need to test my limits — to find out how far I can go. There are mornings when the cold sinks so deep that my fingers ache, as if the bone could shatter from the slightest knock.

Eastern Cape winters do not offer much daylight. The sun rises late and sets early, so every hour counts. I plan my day by the light, because the work will not wait. Water troughs freeze, frost clings to the grazing, and the wind strips away any warmth you had.

In this season, I focus on crops that can handle the cold — cabbage, spinach and onions. They thrive in cooler temperatures, producing good quality and reliable returns. But winter brings its own pressures. The dry air creates moisture stress in the soil. Cabbage grows slower, pests increase in dusty conditions, and spinach can flower too early without enough water. Onions also suffer when soil moisture is inconsistent, resulting in smaller bulbs.

Water becomes even more critical during this time. I have had to learn how to make the most of what is available. I use compost to enrich the soil and improve water retention. I apply deep mulch to reduce evaporation, and I use shade netting to protect spinach and young cabbage from losing too much moisture.

These small adjustments make a big difference. But beyond the farm, the responsibility remains the same. The community still needs fresh food. The local market opens whether it is warm or not, and families depend on what we supply. That is what keeps me going, even on the hardest mornings.

This is where I thrive. I layer up, start before sunrise, and push through each task with purpose. Short days force efficiency. Cold ground teaches patience. The harsher it gets, the more I prove to myself that farming here is about grit, timing, and serving the people who count on us.

I’ve learned to improvise with what I have, adapting to each season’s demands. By working with the land instead of against it, I am not just surviving winter — I am building something that can last.

— Lizo Tshona, Nyalasa Village, Cala