It rained the day...
It rained the day I started year three, year four and year five and my poster paper always got wet. Living only a few hundred kilometres from the wettest town in Australia I was used to the rain. I saw people paddle on surfboards to get groceries and one year a friendly crocodile even swam down the main street of town. Rain was our summer, tiny waterfalls formed in our backyard which made motes for Barbie castles and tea for our garden parties.
These days it never rains.. As the desert sand fills the air, some days I long to be back in the tropical north. Here in the desert, the storms are ochre and filled with dust. The umbrella is neatly packed away and the gumboots have never seen an outing.
It was with a full heart and a deep longing for soggy socks, that I watched the grey clouds sweep over our little town last weekend.
It rained the day...
As I heard a distant sprinkle dancing upon my roof top, I had to run outside to see if I was dreaming. There is was, falling upon my red shoes.. like in intro to Riders on the Storm by The Doors, drop by drop... it was raining.
The umbrella went up, the gumboots went on and for a moment I wished I had kept my Barbie dolls. And after joyous meet and greet, spinning and jumping like a child with a long lost friend, I smiled, thanked my delightful friend for visiting and sat by the fire happy once again.
The rain bought with it pots of tea and granny squares, a roaring fire and foggy windows. As the world passed by, I curled up in my little cottage and watched the raindrops play upon my windows.
I was glad it rained the day...
Thank you so much Pip from Meet me at Mikes who has created this inspiring writing exercise each week. It is a beautiful opportunity to share stories and adventures.
It rained the day I started year three, year four and year five and my poster paper always got wet. Living only a few hundred kilometres from the wettest town in Australia I was used to the rain. I saw people paddle on surfboards to get groceries and one year a friendly crocodile even swam down the main street of town. Rain was our summer, tiny waterfalls formed in our backyard which made motes for Barbie castles and tea for our garden parties.
These days it never rains.. As the desert sand fills the air, some days I long to be back in the tropical north. Here in the desert, the storms are ochre and filled with dust. The umbrella is neatly packed away and the gumboots have never seen an outing.
It was with a full heart and a deep longing for soggy socks, that I watched the grey clouds sweep over our little town last weekend.
It rained the day...
As I heard a distant sprinkle dancing upon my roof top, I had to run outside to see if I was dreaming. There is was, falling upon my red shoes.. like in intro to Riders on the Storm by The Doors, drop by drop... it was raining.
The umbrella went up, the gumboots went on and for a moment I wished I had kept my Barbie dolls. And after joyous meet and greet, spinning and jumping like a child with a long lost friend, I smiled, thanked my delightful friend for visiting and sat by the fire happy once again.
The rain bought with it pots of tea and granny squares, a roaring fire and foggy windows. As the world passed by, I curled up in my little cottage and watched the raindrops play upon my windows.
I was glad it rained the day...Thank you so much Pip from Meet me at Mikes who has created this inspiring writing exercise each week. It is a beautiful opportunity to share stories and adventures.
