Even in the dark I can tell when the river has started to flood. I love to hear the normal soft rushing sound at night, a little like distant traffic. This is more. It’s a freeway roar that means big standing waves crashing against the rocks. Big water on the move is magnificent.
Whole islands disappear, leaving just a set of scrambling waves, rushing to get past. Continue reading
From our verandah lookout at the bottom of the river valley, it often seems that summer storms pass us by on either side. Whenever the weather report says “showers” I assume that means “rain for other people”.
We look up at the ridgeline of Adnamira and see the clouds tumbling past on their way to Canberra.
When there’s rumbling and groaning from the sky, I hope it doesn’t mean fires started by lightning strikes. With almost daily thunderstorms, there have been dozens of small fires and a few big ones. Luckily we’ve had no storms that are completely dry around here… lately. Continue reading
I’ve discovered the secret life of worms.
After the wind and rain last week, I noticed lots of leaves lying around on the concrete outside my bedroom door. Except that Calypso the puppy seemed unusually interested in eating them. She eats anything her mouth can reach, but not usually leaves. Then I realized that the little curled up black things were dead worms. Hundreds of them.
Calypso and the magpies were delighted to eat dried up worm carcases.
I’d known that worms tend to crawl to the surface when it rains. In the US they call them “nightcrawlers” for that habit. Every bait store near a fishing spot in America advertises them on amateurish hand-scrawled signs. I’d assumed they were something specially American like chiggers, rattlesnakes, or armadillos, but no, just earthworms.