There is something quite distinctive about the monsoon season. Those who have experienced it, will confirm this. There is the ‘build up’, the oppressive humidity, that can be quite stifling and being indoors in air conditioned comfort brings on ‘cabin fever’. One looks forward to rain with anticipation and when it comes, one rejoices with a sigh, saying “Here comes the rain”. I’ve written about the monsoon season memories of my childhood elsewhere in my blog. The time to revisit those memories now, seems appropriate. I experienced rain during the monsoon season in my childhood, now I experience it as winter storms. What a difference!
Perth has been in the throes of some nasty weather. I was up north when a large portion of this very expansive State was under a severe weather warning. It was still warm north but as soon as I saw clouds appear, I knew the skies would be magnificent. So, of course, I headed out with camera.
The sun broke through, as it always does, just beyond the Small Boat Harbour, (Carnarvon).
I delighted in the superb drama happening over this little town, quelling my fears of flying home through this and then to weather that was worse in Perth. The flight back was surprisingly calm in the small plane. But there was silence among the 34 passengers when the pilot announced we were going to land in poor weather in 60 km/hour high winds. I know what 28 km/hour winds during landing feels like in this plane. But 60! I closed my eyes and visualized all good things in my life. I found it was not a difficult thing to do. Half an hour from landing I clutched the seat tighter and tighter, while we bounced and rattled. We landed with an almighty thud and a deafening whoomf. Then came the short dash from aircraft to terminal. As soon as we stepped off the plane, it hailed. (Yes, it hurts when it hits one’s face!).
The experience of monsoon rain is different. There’s relief and seems like generosity of Nature, when it rains. A winter storm is all anger and unpredictability, like Nature is having a tantrum. I’ve come to love both experiences for all the sensory components they bring.
I do question myself from time to time. Did I miss out on something special because I lived my life from month to month, skidding into the next season with a regularity that now seems mundane. If I did, the time to experience life, is now. And, that’s the beauty of living. The now, is the starting point.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 