It’s hard to believe that June 5 was only two weeks ago. Back then it was Africa hot, the kind of hot where the air itself feels warm, like you could cut into it with a knife.
I say it’s hard to believe not because the time has flown by, but because so many of the days since then have seen lower-than-normal temperatures, along with enough showers to make the current water rationing seem a bit silly. It’s as if the nice weather was all just a convincing hoax. Perhaps it will be bone dry for the next two months and I’ll come to regret my complaints about more or less typical June weather. Perhaps we will look back and reflect bitterly on what we will come to know as The Great Dustbowl of 2016.
I suspect not.
Evidence that summer is coming, if only according to the calendar, was seen today as I traipsed through Hume Park during a respite from the rain, as the swimming pool has been outfitted with slides and filled with water. It would have looked inviting had the temperature been about ten degrees higher. Maybe next week. Actually, according to the forecast, the highest it will get in the next ten days is 26ºC and that’s next Sunday (and entire week from now), meaning it could conceivably be snowing by then, given rapidly changing weather conditions (you think I jest and yet Grouse Mountain got snow recently, something that sits awkwardly next to their summer promotional advertising). The next five days appear to be a dreary mix of cloud and rain. I suppose it could be worse. I could still be operating the concession at Locarno Beach and openly weeping over the loss of revenue. By the way, do people still go to the beach to tan anymore or do people slather themselves with super-strength sunblock and just go through the motions?)
P.S. I promise the next post will not be about the weather. PROMISE.
