weather

sunday

We are at the beach house for a couple of weeks till the end of the school holidays.

I have to talk about the weather because there is nothing else. It has been dark all day. The bruised penumbral gloom of dusk on a winter’s evening. Except this is mid summer. There is so much water falling and blowing and hurling out of the sky its a wonder there is any air left in between the water, for us to breathe. My old fibro house is leaking in half a dozen places where it never leaked before. 

The wind rattles the window panes and there is a constant watery roar and rush - the sea, the rain a great merged turmoil of wetness. Most of the time you can’t even see the ocean, the rain is so thick. The world out there is white and grey and shaking. When you catch a glimpse of the sea, it is black. The rain has not stopped for a moment all day. Inside the house every surface is damp. The carpet feels sticky. The power has been off. It’s on again now, except for one kitchen circuit which keeps blowing the trip switch. 

The kettle and the toaster are plugged in in the bathroom, until the electrician can get here, in about a week’s time.

It was a good sunday morning for lying in bed and reading a book. I am ploughing through Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom. Not quite sure if I really  like it, thought I’m hooked into it now. And I agree with lots of things he seems to be saying via his characters, re capitalism’s unhealthy obsession with ‘growth’; the environment etc. He nails things, people, & our petty insecurities and strategies etc. He’s awfully clever, but...I dunno, so fast talking, so sure of himself, something in me recoils slightly.

I’m comparing Freedom with the previous rather strange novel I read, in Melbourne “The Last Report On Miracles At Little No Horse’ by Louise Erdrich. Totally different thing. More soul, tenderness, ambiguity, more love in it, and more poetry...

Anyway, by midday we are sick of reading. We have cabin-fever. F & I go for a walk on the beach. We get drenched despite our raincoats. Our wet hair whips our faces. The sea is a wild creature snapping its foaming jaws. After half an hour we dash back to shelter. 

We hear on the radio that rivers are flooding, roads are closed. Our house smells mildewy. I light candles and incense. A few hours’ drive north of here there are real floods, houses and towns under metres of water, real suffering, as opposed to our slight discomfort.

It is scary and sobering to be buffeted around by elemental forces. To be reminded that Mother Nature is a mighty force and that we are very puny. 

Jonathan Franzen reminds us in ‘Freedom’ (it is worth reading) that there is not only climate change to worry about, but also the mind-boggling  problem of over-population. I heard someone the other day say that the Earth is like a big creature trying to shake off parasites, or fleas. That’s us, the fleas. Hmm.

Monday

A whole different feeling now because people have actually died , drowned in a freak floodwater tsunami in Toowoomba. Tragedy, disaster, emergency, and huge floodwaters heading down the Brisbane river towards the city.

In the appliance store where I went to buy a food processor today, people were crowded around the tv showing footage of the floods, the evacuations, the rescues,  the cars and houses swept away, flotsam and jetsam on brown torrents. I stood there glued to the screen for ten minutes. 

The tv aerial at home got blown away by a storm a while ago and I didn’t bother fixing it yet again. I hardly ever watch tv anyway. Don’t listen to the (so-called) News much either - all those infantile politicians  bickering with each other. But when it’s Nature, that’s different, it’s real. I want to know. It’s probably lucky the tv at home doesn’t work, I’d be glued to it. 

Some of the stories brought tears to my eyes - children rescued by strangers. A man who while rescuing someone, saw his own son’s empty car swept past in the torrent. 

Some of the the other people standing there under the fluro lights among the flickering tv screens in the store were moved too,  and we exchanged a few words about how frightening it was, and those poor people.

Even the politicians have stopped their tedious point-scoring and are expressing shock and sympathy. Why can’t we all be more in our hearts everyday, without there having to be disasters?  

The moisture-absorbers you can buy in the supermarket were, I discovered all sold out weeks ago - the ones you put in cupboards so your shoes won’t go mouldy etc. I also tried to get some clove oil  because someone told me it’s good for getting rid of mildew. I gave up after finding it out of stock in three places. It all feels very trifling somehow.

Got completely drenched dashing to the car from the cafe. I met Z there. we had coffees and talked about The Floods. Felix went off  with them for a sleepover. Driving home there was so much water over the road I was a little scared I wouldn’t make it.

Back to the damp, leaking house, and sudden solitude. D is up at the rainforest, where he says ( on the phone) that the sound of the creek is deafening. This morning, F discovered a mushroom ( non-edible) growing in the kitchen!! 

Today’s highlight: standing out on the deck showering in fresh cold  rainwater falling straight from the sky.

And now I can’t post this because the mobile broadband URL thingy isn’t working. Probably has moisture in it. 

Thursday

Whole shelves  at the supermarket are empty - no carrots, no potatoes, no lettuce. Because the wholesale markets in Brisbane are under water. I think, briefly, about places in the world where there are food shortages every day. I wonder if I should stock up, but I don’t. 

Apart from that, life here is pretty normal again. The sun has even shown its face. I did two loads of washing and hung them out. Flung open the windows . Meanwhile, in Brisbane, just an hour and a half down the highway, hundreds of people have been evacuated from their homes. Places we know well are now part of the vast brown lake in the aerial photos on the front of the newspaper. The whole of the CBD is shut down. A State Of Emergency has been declared.

Terrible tragedy ( rescue workers are saying some of the bodies will never be found) cheek by jowl with mundane daily life.

Our friends due to visit from Victoria next week have cancelled their trip.