It seems it's been raining since the dawn of time. After years of drought, of installing rainwater tanks, of one minute showers, of hand watering the garden and watching the landscape turn brown, then bare, then barren, the once empty dams are disgorging water and threatening us with inundation. It was feeling like 1974 again. The year the city went under.
And now the days and nights are silent. The sky is unbearably blue and the vivid green weeds of spring seize their opportunity to establish a new world order.
At night I wander the house feeling lonely, missing the sounds of dripping and tapping. As I drag myself off to bed my heart lifts as I hear a familiar sound. A tiny rumbling and the soft swish of water. I feel everything lighten. I move to the window of the kitchen to take in the sight of a drizzling sky only to find its my dishwasher on its rinse cycle.
I am missing the rain like I miss a lover. No more is there the comforting murmur of her soft voice. No more the knowledge that each time I roll over in my bed I will be reassured by her presence. No more the sense that I am enveloped in her embrace. The rain has left me and like an abandoned lover I catch sight of clouds on the horizon and a flash of hope surges through my body. I listen to the weather report hoping to hear news of a new low pressure system moving in from the west. I look at the long range weather forecast in the vain hope that she will realise her
mistake and return to comfort me
1 comment:
Back in the 80's we had a drought summer - nothing like you have experienced, but nevertheless, I lived on a farm then and many of my friends and family suffered the consequences.
Ever since that summer, rain has felt like a relief to me.
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