The Storm
Ok - so I go to NZ to visit my son and daughter-in-law, all is calm when I leave, although the weather had been hot, hot, hot. The cooler air of Queenstown was very, very welcome. Unfortunately while I was away, a very unpleasant visitor came to holiday along my homeland's coastline . . .
Ray's "it's a bit windy here" might have been a slight under-exaggeration (is that a word?).
My morning walk along the Wynnum Manly foreshore is testimony to that... oh what a mess!In the short distance I covered, I counted five big shade trees laying flat against the ground, the wind’s might having pushed them out of the earth, leaving roots bare and exposed, blocking the path of the early morning joggers. Tree limbs, branches and palm fronds all over.
The tide must have been high. Seaweed could be seen on the road 20 meters up the streets. Strange mounds on driveways and lawns– racking seaweed in one’s front yard just does not seem kosher.
Jellyfish languishing in the hot morning sun, on a sea of grass rather than the actual sea. Their bubbling extremities out of place – there will be no tide coming to carry them back to the coolness of the bay.Large chunks of cement, like jigsaw pieces strewn along the pathway. In my mind’s eye I see the giant and his temper.
I cast my eyes around and imagine the tempest that was ‘the storm’.
Ray's "it's a bit windy here" might have been a slight under-exaggeration (is that a word?).
My morning walk along the Wynnum Manly foreshore is testimony to that... oh what a mess!In the short distance I covered, I counted five big shade trees laying flat against the ground, the wind’s might having pushed them out of the earth, leaving roots bare and exposed, blocking the path of the early morning joggers. Tree limbs, branches and palm fronds all over.
The tide must have been high. Seaweed could be seen on the road 20 meters up the streets. Strange mounds on driveways and lawns– racking seaweed in one’s front yard just does not seem kosher.
Jellyfish languishing in the hot morning sun, on a sea of grass rather than the actual sea. Their bubbling extremities out of place – there will be no tide coming to carry them back to the coolness of the bay.Large chunks of cement, like jigsaw pieces strewn along the pathway. In my mind’s eye I see the giant and his temper.
I cast my eyes around and imagine the tempest that was ‘the storm’.
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