News from the Veranda
Rain, rain, beautiful soft soaking rain! Over twenty four hours another 25ml in the rain gauge. Above is a thick slate roof of varying shades of grey. The Yang Yang Ranges and Mt Slowcombe have a blanket of mist covering them showing only their bases. Puddles of water lying on the flats reflect grey sky. The great sweeps of wild flowers are bending their yellow, white and purple heads as if to keep their faces from getting wet.
On the unsealed road to Jundah and about eight km from Yaraka three desolate Road Trains with trailers sit bogged strung out in a line resembling a dirty wet disgusted caterpillar with all legs glued in the mud – going no where.
One motor home and one caravan sit forlornly in the caravan park beside the cement pads they have chosen; their doors and windows closed with water fall curtains pouring from the annexes.
The bird life have secreted themselves into hiding spots and all is very quiet – away from the hotel.
However on the veranda the long term resident, obese, green frog who for some time has leased a cosy crevice in the ceiling rafters is croaking, gargling with gravel; perhaps he was around when a young Tom Jones was at his gravely best.
But the Tom Jones ‘strangled gargling’ is drowned out by the laughter and conversations from the dining room and bar; handshakes and introductions happen as some locals arrive and meet the stranded tourists and the road train drivers; the six degrees of separation is a live and well as mutual friends are discovered.
Outside the cloud slate tiles start falling away and holes appear in the roof producing patches of blue sky. Shafts of sunlight fall down on isolated spots of green and the wild flowers start lifting their heads to dry and smile again.
By mid afternoon few fluffy white clouds float overhead in a huge blue sky and the sun is warm and nature feels cosy again.
The weather forecast tells us that more rain is eminent for the next few days but no one minds; the roads may be closed, supplies might be running short, footwear and clothes are built up with mud, clumps of dried mud fall onto clean floors and walkways but no one minds. Mud brings hope, mud brings revival. There is money in mud!
Properties around here have had more rain this year than they have totalled over the last six. Hope fulfilled is the tree of life.