Rain along the Wingecarribee

Published : Sunday, October 28, 2007

I walked out of the cowshed on Sunday at noon to find nearly fifteen mils of rain in the gauge. Rain is news where I live. Most it fell from storms that did some damage along the coast on Saturday night. Seems only a week, but it must be two months, since I wrote a poem about the nakedness of winter; now we’re deep in spring, and the yard and all the paddocks about it are in leaf. The silver poplars by the shed; the Osage Orange against the house; the ash, the aspens, the pears, the oak and all the rest of them. But spring has been dry till now, and the dams, which got up to fifty per cent in May for the first time in recent memory, have been falling slowly through the winter. Australia, as I say in my essay “A Storm & a Teacup; or, Dying Beautifully,” is the driest continent on earth after Antarctica, and unlikely to get much wetter fast. So the rain is welcome. Not just along the Wingecarribee, but all across the continent’s southeast, where it fell in a wide band.