It's raining.
Thin curtains of misty drizzle roll gently across the parched landscape, steaming on the dry earth. As I watch, it thickens into fat droplets of water which are quickly absorbed by the thirsty paddocks.
It's raining.
Icy drops slice through the thickly humid air like a knife, cooling the hot stickiness of the atmosphere. Small puddles have appeared on the road, making the bitumen throw up clouds of steam. Skeletally thin trees creak as rain courses over them. The rain is only a little too late to save them.
It's raining.
Sheep stand in their paddocks, their thick fleeces sodden as they quest for green grass. Horses stand miserably in their shelters and whicker at the puddles. Cows watch in a bemused fashion as their hides run with water.
It's raining.
Drops slide over the windscreen of the car, streaming in the wind. The windows fog with condensed water vapor.
I wipe away the obscuring mist, and watch the scenery pass by without really seeing it.
And I think of home.
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