Last night, just as my lappy was dying, we lost power. After waiting desperately in the dark for a half-hour, I cut my losses and decided it was time for bed. I lay there listening to the tempestuous winds scream through the neighbourhood, and I smiled—the spring storms are here!
I love this time of year. You can smell the rain in the air, feel the electricity on your skin, and almost breathe the heat that hits before a storm. The mornings slowly heat up to a sweltering afternoon. Everything seems to still. And then the sky darkens and the heavens crash down to earth with thunder claps that shake the very air around you, and sheet lightning brighter than the brightest of days.
The rain itself pounds down with such ferocity it can feel like needles on your skin, before lessening to a patter and falling for hours on end—the sound of it on a tin roof sends my heart aflutter. But there is always a chance, especially in Queensland, that this rain will plummet to earth not as droplets, but as icy pearls. Sometimes very large pearls, as was the case yesterday. The ground was carpeted in such a layer of ice-cold hail it seemed almost as if it had snowed a little…at least to this little snow-virgin.
It was all slightly magical and delightful.