Actually they have been in for a few weeks now. Grey skies, a very gentle breeze from the mountains behind, and a cool, gentle, steady rain lasting for about twenty minutes or so, often coming about three times a day. Sometimes it gets heavy and lasts for an hour or so. It is reminiscent of Autumn rain in Australia, although it is only February. It’s great in its own way, but I have had my first few twinges of homesickness when I realised that this rain did not come complete with the other features and sensations of the break of season and the heralding of an Australian autumn. The promised flush of freshness into the air and the expected release from the tension of the dry Adelaide north wind does not eventuate, because there was no real wind to speak of anyway; the air cools down, but only for a little while, and then is muggier than ever when the sun comes out, so the tension never really disipates in quite the same way. The leaves aren’t near turning, and they days are not getting shorter. There are no distant sensory reminders of the passing of the seasons in my childhood in Canberra. The rain is supposed to mean something! But this rain has come and now it is “the same, except with water falling down from the sky more often.”
Louise, on the other hand is put in mind of her Brisbane childhood and loves to sit out on the balcony, happy in the cool air and excited at the prosect of a real tropical storm. I like it too, but I suspect it will never be the same as the distinct seasons of my childhood.