Clouds came floating above …

Last week after months and months of thinking it will never rain and watching the cracks in the black soil widen,  the clouds floated into our life. In the last week we’ve had twelve inches of rain. As we celebrate I can’t help but wonder why times have to become desperate before it rains. We’ve nearly had our yearly rainfall in a week.

I refuse to over think the reasons it’s just enough to have the birds singing, the water tanks full, the grass green and the sunsets golden.

With this in mind I couldn’t resist sharing one of Banjo Patterson’s Poems…

The Weather Prophet  

‘Ow can it rain.’ the old man said, ‘with things the way they are?

You’ve got to learn off ant and bee, and jackaroo and galah;

And no man never saw it rain, for fifty years at least,

Not when the blessed parakeets are flyinn’ to the east!’

The weeks went by, the squatter wrote to tell his bank the news.

‘It’s still as dry as dust,’ he said, ‘I’m feeding all the ewes;

The overdraft would sink a ship, but make your mind at rest,

It’s all right now, the parakeets are flyin’ to the west!’

A B Paterson

All photographs (c) Carmel Rowley