Intoxication

Right now the weather is almost too glorious to describe. After a couple of days of wind, the sky has been cleared of clouds and stretches blue from horizon to horizon. Driving to do my shopping this morning I saw one tiny cloud to the west. By the time I returned it had moved to the north. Like a tiny beauty spot on a face, it emphasised the perfection of the sky. Down on the ground the jacaranda are flinging their flowers of incandescent purple-blue to the sky and the bees are intoxicated with the golden pompoms of the gum blossoms. You could see every fold and shadow of the distant ranges lined up worshipping the sky.

I find it hard to be at the computer when the weather is so wonderful. I want to be doing something, anything – running without getting tired; finishing the book; creating a magnificent garden; finishing the house; doing something just because I want to.

I think that others must be feeling the same. I shop at the local IGA because I like the gentle drive through the hills, past the cemetery garlanded now in purple and into what is essentially a small rural village. You see people and chat. Even the checkout people discuss the weather, their kids and the rocketing price of vegetables (except the teenage boys suffering from excesses of hormones and angst who try to get you through before you can possibly address any comment to them). Today, a friend of mine was telling me about how as a lad, he and his friends would sleep out at the creek in winter:

It had to be winter so the snakes weren’t around. We’d sleep on cornbags (you wouldn’t even know what one was dear) and go swimming in the dam in the middle of the night in the buff. You know, the water was warm. I hate cold water but the dams would keep the heat and we’d only get cold when we got out.

I think he was whistling as he headed off towards the chocolate aisle.