just call me Noah

I know that Nadie jokingly suggested that The Boy's parents send some of Queensland's excess rain down here, but seriously, I didn't realise that they had THAT much pull with the gods of weather.

Skies were blue, clouds were fluffy white and then THIS rolled over the horizon accompanied by the sound of thunder but high up. Yeah okay ... a bit grey but that means zip... and when the thunder is that high overhead we generally get zero in the way of precipitation.


So no need to get excited yet. I go back to painting the en-suite and even when I have to put the light on, even though it's only about 4pm, I really don't give it too much thought until the lights flicker out.


About ten seconds later and someone has started firing off a canon. No wait ... that's rain on the tin roof. I'd kinda forgotten what that sounds like... and that's not fog folks it's rain and my driveway doing its impersonation of a river.

It's POURING down. Where are those directions for building an Ark when I need them ? Okay... two of every kind? I've got two cats... check... two goats...check...

Putting the ark idea on hold, I then wade out to unblock the storm water drain that feeds down to the dam cos all that lovely wet stuff is running off down to the road. As I stand there getting drenched through to the undies, lightening and thunder go off simultaneously overhead and I speedily come to the conclusion that standing outdoors holding a large lump of metal in the form of a shovel isn't the brightest thing to be doing in the middle of a thunderstorm.

About this time Rosie and Robyn chime in to let me know that they are cut off from their shed by the rising tide and being the fussy little madams that they are, don't want to get their feet wet, so as I go back inside, accompanied by the sound of complaining goat, I find Rosie perched somewhat precariously on the back doorstep [ as in literally ON the one-brick-wide doorstep ] while Robyn has taken refuge at the other end of the house and climbed onto my bedroom windowsill.

Result?

My bedroom smells like a wet goat which is marginally better than wet dog.

You can see the goat paddock cunningly disguised as a lake of silty water and floating goat poo behind Robyn. I don't particularly blame the pair of them for wanting to stay high if not exactly dry.

I was going to show you a photo of all the shit [ literally] that ended up in the dam but it's just too gross. Thank God I don't have to rely on that for washing or drinking.

But I no complain ... oh no ... rain is GOOD