20150208_141821Craning my neck back, halting in my step, looking up at the clear blue sky. It’s so clear, clean and crisp. With wisps of white clouds floating like threads of silk, accentuating the differing colours of light to deep glorious blue. It’s so mesmerizingly perfect.

You’d think it’d been years since we’d seen a blue sky.

But the storm hit so hard last night it rocked the house – literally. Glass windows rattled in their mouldings. The roof seemed to groan under the pressure. Foundations slightly trembled underfoot. Our hearts pounded while sweaty palms covered our ears and our bodies braced against each roaring rumble of thunder.

Lightning crackled so close you could feel the intense electricity building in the air with each pending strike. Skin crawled as the hairs on the back of the neck stood to attention. Our eyes involuntarily closed from the brilliant ‘blue’ strikes. No delicate white forked fingers of lightning with this storm. No, these powerful blue-bolts illuminated the night, creating an eerie spotlight effect. All the while praying the concentrated voltage wouldn’t hit the house.

But as fast as the intense storm struck with ferocious whipping-winds and immovable walls-of-rainwater flooding the earth –   it was gone.

Had we experienced a tornado?

No. It was just an extremely aggressive storm cell, according to the weather guy on the radio. Typical for this time of the year.

Craning my neck I watch the perfect ‘V’ formation of the large, black and white Magpie Geese. About thirty of them, gliding in the sky, heading further inland to the wetlands close-by. Having sheltered here the night, they did well to hang in those trees, considering the amount of fallen branches that lie scattered beside their trunks.

Imagine their aerial view, seeing the remnants and the destructive path of last night’s storm?

Nah, you don’t want to know. Blissful ignorance is best. You’d want to be admiring that spectacular skyline, enjoying that cooling breeze, inhaling that fresh clean air.

Because it wouldn’t be long and the humidity will be back biting-like-a-bitch. Already feeling that temperature rising. Watching the clouds building on the horizon. The storms will be returning and the promise of a monsoon not far away.

Sadly, too-soon, destroying the serenity, would be the sounds of mowers waging war on the ever-growing grass or you’d hear the ear-splitting whine of chain saws slashing through fallen tree limbs.

All so typical of the ‘Wet-Season’.

But right now – this early morning, after that storm, this moment is pure peaceful paradise.

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