Muggy, Muggy Morning

A grey Goshawk flies passed. It does a big loop of the cloudy sky with a currawong chasing him away. A kookaburra lands in the farthest trees. Another Kookaburra flies over the house and into the trees behind. The first kookaburra flies to the trees at the back of the house. They laugh together at the world.

It is very muggy on the deck this morning, possibly the muggiest morning we have had. There is a wisp of a breeze, cooling us just a little.

Maybe it will rain? Hopefully it will rain. It should rain. The rain would cool things down.

Ah, life in a tropical climate, barefoot every day. Shoes become obsolete. One never feels cold, not even in the night. Lovely.

The bird’s cheap, so many different bird calls, sounding all around us.

We should go swimming in the river. The cool water will wash all the sweat away. We helped Mark weed his garden in the mornings before it go too hot, and we swam in the river in the afternoon.

It rained as we swam, each raindrop like a fairy jumping up as it hits the surface of the river. Millions of tiny fountains momentarily come to life, disappearing back under the surface almost as quickly as they appear, sending their ripple of life out into the world.

And then we drank tea and ate cake.