5:30am. The street disappears into clouds of mist. We are marooned in our house and I am reluctant to venture into the grey, but Molly is eager, wound up, and so we set forth. The morning passed in the company of friends. We trade remarks about the cracked earth, and the clouds that have fringed and scuttled across the sky for the past week. We walk along a concrete path that still radiates Sunday heat. The day had begun.
11:00am. The heat advanced as the mist evaporated and as I set out to run I felt sticky, swimming through the molasses-thick air, my limbs heavy and tired. I conquered a distance less than I had hoped, but rivers of sweat let me know I had worked my heart enough. The pressure of the day is building. I feel something in the air: the intrinsic knowledge of a child of the subtropics where the weather can change on a mere puff of breeze and the colour of the sky can conjure the twins of dread and excitement.
2:00pm. The sky is darkening as I sit and devour a plate of sunshine-tasting salad. The bite of lemon brightens the dull afternoon as I contemplate a manuscript in need of my attention for a university assignment. My window provides glimpses of a sky that is colouring like a bruise in reverse: yellow, green, blue, black…
3:00pm. The wind has started to threaten danger. The first crack of lightening. A startled yip, a wooden crash, a canine whine: a mass of Malamute fur huddled against me seeking comfort and reassurance that we are safe in these four walls.
3:15pm. Thunder rolls its drums and leaves begin to gather the first drops of rain. The moisture lands heavily on the roof. Ears prick up, trained by a lifetime of summers to discern the different footsteps of rain and hail. Bare feet scratch and crush against the bitumen – move the car! Arms reach up into the sky and hair is torn by the wind – take in the washing!
3:40pm. A small sigh, a scent of freesia from tabletop vase, hands warmed around a mug of green tea, birds are calling out as the winter droughts are truly broken. Spring storms are here. The earth is ready to drink it in. I am ready for spring.
