#56 - A wisp of a breeze - a thunderous storm

A gentle cool breeze touching my skin is soothing, and stimulating – like sensitive fingertips expertly massaging my taut neck and shoulders. Sometimes the breeze is so slight that the only visible response to the subtle breath of air comes from the poplar trees next door; a leafy twig twirls around and around as if it has been singled out by a pedantic stream of air, and then suddenly the whole tree quivers like a human body shivering as it is struck by a blast of freezing air – and then the tree stands still.

Nature is never empty; never boring.

***** ***** *****

Early morning is my favourite time of day to be outdoors, although I do occasionally take a bit of shifting from my bed. But the dawning of the day can be a delightful experience. The air is usually at its calmest before sunup, and my senses are at their sharpest. Distant sounds drift in on the fresh morning air, muffled by moisture and rural structures.

I love a cool, cheeky breeze blowing on my face – not a bracing wind; just pleasant wisps of sweet air breathing zest into my body. It is energising.

But the placid sounds of leaves rustling as the breeze whispers leisurely through my garden can morph into a threatening drone of wild wind rushing over the river flats, with little transition from breeze to gale. There are no major hills or other obstructions to temper the wind as it tears through the valley.

December 04 - storm clouds, black and threatening

race across the flats from the north

The hot dry north-westerlies can be particularly violent. Brittle roof tiles were dislodged and broken by one such wind-storm shortly after we moved into our home five years ago – a rude introduction to the might of moving air. We replaced the 35 year-old tiles with iron, which was smartly destroyed by a hail storm. We replaced it with more iron. Roller doors still buckle under the force of wind, but the latest roof has remained intact.

February 05 - hailstones made a mess of our new iron roof

An eerie whining sound whistles through cracks in the rattly, ill-fitting window panes as the wind whips around the house. Transparent roofing sheets on the back awning flap menacingly, despite being well secured. Billowing black clouds race across the flats, at times so low they threaten to engulf our home.

The wind roars through the Casuarinas lining the Hunter calmly flowing through the deep, steep-sided river gully; lightening flashes to the ground followed by crashing thunder claps. I cower, hidden indoors; the lights flicker and the room is plunged into darkness. A haunting silence can herald a second onslaught. The fierce electrical storms that are commonplace in summer frighten me.

December 06 - a green tinge to the storm clouds

usually indicates hail - and it did

The up side to storms (besides the welcome rain) is the glorious, and often delicate lighting, changing moment by moment - the shifting play of light and shadow dances across the bare open paddocks pulsing in time with the racing clouds; strings of raindrop beads cling to my garden foliage capturing the returning sunlight, winking, sparkling; and then, if I am lucky, a rainbow graces the sky.

January 09

a rainbow following rain is always a blessing

We may be making a move back to town, so I wish to express my thoughts about some of the natural beauty and wonder I have appreciated in my rural garden – clouds, sunsets and moonrises will follow the breeze in upcoming entries.