A very welcome tropical storm swept through a few days ago. After a sweltering day lightning broke through dark and bulging clouds as we drove home from school. Thunder rumbled. The temperature dropped sharply and a welcome wind pulled at the trees.
In the evening the storm-light slanted through our front windows and reminded me of the storm that came through when I was still heavy with our little one. Now she has been here five weeks and it's impossible to imagine life without her.
We are still learning her - so much of her is familiar - the milk-drunk expression, the way she has of pouting out her lower lip when she's replete and stretching into curves, is so much her brother, the markings on her face and the delicate shape of it is so much her oldest sister, and yet she is so much herself. I'm still learning her humorous expressions, the way she scrunches up her nose before she lunges for the milk, the funny old-man look as she lifts up her pale eyebrows and her forehead wrinkles. The swirls of fine pale hair on her arms, and the way she pumps one foot as if it will make the milk come faster as she's feeding.
Another storm came through today - spectacular with its lightning and thunder (which I am convinced my in-laws' dog thought was the Great Dog in the Sky growling). I also made the acquaintance of another snake today - this one at close quarters as I helped my father-in-law get it out of his pigeon coop. Beloved informed me again that this will be a Proper Queensland Summer - full of storms and snakes. My last Queensland baby also brought with her a lot of rain, although not so many snakes. While I love the storms and rains I am hoping this summer is not quite as rain-heavy as that one of 2010-11.
The lightning has stopped now, thirty-thousand homes are without power and the rain has paused, but moisture still hangs heavy in the air. My little ones sleep. I savour the cool. The quiet after the storm.