SOL2015 March 5 - There's A Bully In Town
Awoke to a wild windy morning today. The wind-chimes were clanging like cowbells and trees surrounding our house were engaged in a discordant swishing, scraping chorus as the wind rattled through them. An eerie light and drab gray clouds blanket the day. The weather gods appear irked. The wind is intent on bullying. The clouds are beginning to weep.
In fit of pique, the wind has upturned most of the bins standing quietly at the roadside, awaiting collection. Rubbish litters the street. The wind rages on, wreaking vandalism it seems.
It was radically different yesterday. Sunny, with a benign and gentle breeze. A most pleasant autumn day had presented itself. Today the spirit of autumn has evaporated completely. An irritable wind has blown in to bother our town.
I live in a part of the world renowned for the variability of the weather. Greater Melbourne, and its unpredictable weather provided the inspiration for the song, ‘Four Seasons In One Day.’ Melbournians often tell visitors to our city, ‘If you don’t like the weather we’re having, just wait five minutes and it will change.’
I actually like the variable nature of our weather. It certainly makes life interesting. Wardrobe choices are a constant consideration. It keeps you on your toes. An eye is turned to the sky. You can’t be weather complacent in Melbourne. It could very well rain on your parade. It could also be sunshine, lollipops and roses –all on the same afternoon! Packing an umbrella and sunscreen on the same day is not unheard of in this part of the world.
Melbournians are therefore strongly drawn to weather watching. Meteorological announcements are closely monitored. We love our weather forecasts. We need to know what to expect. Fail to plan, plan to fail is more than familiar to us. Weather is embedded in the conversations of people. The statement, ‘Hasn't the weather been weird,’ is often followed by the somewhat philosophical, ‘Yeah, well that’s Melbourne for you.’
On days like this, the words of Spike Milligan come to mind,
‘Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny.’
Today we will work and walk against the wind, for tomorrow, who knows?
|The sun made an appearance late in the afternoon,|
so a walk along a windswept beach seemed in order.