112.5mm of rain in two weeks has transformed the Rosewood Scrub. Before I moved here, I had no idea of what rainfall meant. I had never measured rainfall nor knew what a particular measurement meant. Now I know that that much rain on our roof is 10,125 litres of rain in our tanks, centimetres of grass grown, trees revitalised and sending out shoots, dams slowly refilling. Today as I drove back from Ipswich, as soon as I got out of town I could smell the countryside growing. The hills breathed out moist fertile breaths. Beside the road, there were fields of green grass covered with swathes of purple and white flowers. Weeds perhaps, but beautiful. Even the skies are washed clean and decorated with impeccably fluffy white clouds. Nights are cool, days are breezy and pleasant. This I will try to remember when summer closes down on us, we suffocate in the breathless heat and the grass crunches again under my feet.
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