We’ve had a good soaking, a small taste of our missing monsoon.
I had almost lost hope. On Monday evening, I took the photo below.
It shows rain falling a kilometre (just over half a mile) away to the southwest, beautifully lit by the setting sun. It was falling there, but we were getting nothing. I ground my teeth and watered the garden yet again, sending wishes out into the universe. Watering the garden in the Wet. It’s ridiculous. Anyway, someone was listening.
Last night, the pressure spiked, the temperature dropped like a stone, the wind suddenly whipped up to gusts of 87kmph (55mph) and the rain didn’t so much come down as blow in sideways, in buckets. It lasted all of half an hour, but it was long enough to soak the ground, strip dead fronds from the palm trees and blow over my flame tree and mango tree in their tubs. We have a storm water channel at the front of the house, with a bridge over it to reach our drive. It’s 80cm (30 inches) deep and normally dry as a bone. This night, it was in full spate, racing and gurgling through the large pipes under the bridge. I won’t bore you with the graphs I love so much, because I do appreciate that not everyone is a weather freak like I am, but it was exciting, and long overdue.
And it rained again today, properly. The ground is wet, the cracks are closing up, the leaves are lush and green, and the grass is springing out of the ground. The Husband is glumly resigned to the fact that one of his days off will contain several hours on the ride on mower and attacking the edges with the line trimmer.
I’m glued to the Bureau of Meteorology website. More rain on the way! Sad, I know…