Storm Diary

Nature is wild outside. The thunder cracks so loudly, I hastily put up blue domes of protection over my home, my car, the guy next door's unit ... heck, the whole top end of this street, and a few friends' homes elsewhere in town for good measure.  

But I don't think of this until some time after already seeing huge hailstones falling, and fearing for my car, out there by the kerb. The only consolation is that those falling near the house, where it's more usually parked, are even bigger. 

The rain is now torrential. 

Crikey, that was a tremendous crash! I.m surprised my lights are still on. Computers, modem and phone are unplugged, TV is off, and I listen to sharp cracks of hail on roof and windows, sounding as if they'll break the glass, or as if they are coming through the ceiling right into the room.

The only tree close enough to the house to do damage is the frangipani, and that's very sturdy and right up against the front wall, only a few of the top twigs against a window. All the same, I might prune it down below the sill real soon.

I think of another friend's house that may well be at risk, and another's, and another's, and whack up a few more domes. Then I strengthen the ones already in place.

The lights flicker briefly. 

I'm glad this didn't happen yesterday while I was out and about.

Ah, there goes the power off. And back on again almost at once! Just when I was getting up to fetch the torch (which I keep handy) and think about lighting candles (quite handy too). 

Both thunder and rain quieten, and/or begin to  move away.

Later

It abated, and I went outside to check my car. It already had a few hail dints on the roof, acquired before I bought it. I don't think there are more. The neighbour across the road was checking his car roof at the same time, and it was OK. 

We stopped for a bit of a chat; hadn't seen each other in weeks. Then the rain started again, so we hastened back inside our houses. The thunder swung around and came back here for another go, with yet more rain and hail. The sky went very dark.  But now it does seem to have finished at last.

Again, as so often lately, no need to water my garden for a while.

Reflecting on the Dust Storm

Along with the notion that we may expect more such events, I'm left with this sobering thought:

a sky full of dust
thickening in the nostrils
and nowhere to run

(Reposted from Haiku on Friday at MySpace)

Dust Storm

The day before yesterday, driving back to the coast from the nearest town, I did my usual thing of gazing at a panorama of ocean a moment at the crest of one hill before dipping down into our village. This time, it was disappointing: the water dull, and a strange haze in the air.

Next day (Wednesday 23rd) I went to my Tai Chi class at 9am. Nothing much to notice then. I had my chiropractic appointment at 11.15, and as I walked there I noticed that the fine day seemed to be getting overcast. When I left, the chiropractor and his receptionist both came to the door and looked out at the thick yellowish haze now coming over the hills. It had an eerie quiet to it. "Ominous," they agreed. We couldn't figure out what it was. I thought there might be a bushfire somewhere – and yet it wasn't smoke we were seeing.

I went home, turned on the local news, missed most of it but got something about motorists needing to be careful of "the dust from Newcastle" so I Googled that. I found out there had been a huge dust storm way off in the outback desert, exacerbated by gale force winds which blew it eastwards, and by some bush fires along its path. It had blacked out the whole of Broken Hill the previous night, and then moved on to cloak Sydney and Newcastle in an eerie orange-red glow by Wednesday morning.

By 12.30 in the afternoon it was well and truly here - not red as in Sydney but a nasty pale yellow that didn't look healthy. And it was not healthy, of course. In Sydney asthmatics and others ended up in hospital. We got off fairly lightly here by comparison with other places, but we could certainly smell it and knew we were breathing it in somewhat. The day got darker and darker.

Soon the whole sky was blanketed from underneath, and the day and evening became quite cold – strange for this time of year in this part of the country –  presumably because of the sun being blocked off. When night came it seemed much darker than usual.

The satellite weather picture on the evening news showed a massive cloud that moved across from South Australia and central Australia to the east coast, stretching from south of Sydney to the Gulf of Carpentaria (the most northeastern point of the country) and as wide as half the State. They said it probably was not an effect of climate change, but one wonders. They also said it was by far the worst dust storm in our recorded history. Here's a NASA view of it from space.

I had no trouble finding a topic for yesterday's 30 Poems in 30 Days prompt: "Write a poem in which a similar or identical phrase is repeated three or more times throughout the poem."

Dark Sky in Daylight

Once upon a time
this was a lush continent
but that was long ago.
Now we have drought.

Our dry inland “outback”
dry like this for centuries
became that way long ago.
Now we have desert.

Today there’s a haze
thickening the whole eastern sky.
Wind and fire outback yesterday,
now we have dust.

We have it here
far from the red centre,
blown all that way yesterday.
Now we have darkness.

23/9/09


Amazing, on waking this morning, to find blue, sunny skies and no trace of the dust to be seen. Even now, though, well into the afternoon, I only have to sniff a bit and I can still smell it. It prompted a tanka (a form I'm playing with a lot lately in an attempt to learn it).

A fresh Spring morning
yesterday’s choking dust cloud
vanished from this coast –
to infiltrate the ocean
or arrive in New Zealand?

24/9/09

Photos here (Sydney).