The smell of fresh fertiliser wafting in my bedroom window wrecked my peanut butter and honey on toast for breakfast this morning. Yes, that means I had crumbs accompanying me in bed. Once I closed my window, it was only crumbs and me, instead of crumbs and manure and me.
Halfway home on one of my walks on Wednesday, my friend and I got caught in a terrific thunderstorm. Terrific in the fact that it was a gentle precursor to the onslaught of the usual summer storms to come, and not so terrific in the fact that we walked for 20 minutes in it. It did remind me of being in high school and trudging to the train station during Brisbane summer storms, which would always hit right on 3. Perhaps the association came from the fact that I was walking with the only girl from high school I am still friends with. The only thing different is that this storm hit at 4, and we had a legally purchased bottle of wine waiting for us at the end of the walk.
Summer is a bitch, and damn is she early – there are jacaranda trees blooming everywhere over this goddamn town.
