The Fallow

The whole time the emergency was raging outside, nobody did much. I’ve compared times with a few other people on this seems no one had any energy to do much else other than concentrate on the storm raging around us.

Six days ago I took this shot at night, storm clouds gathering

While the whole system moved sluggishly toward the coast it was like I was stultified, couldn’t concentrate on anything other thsn reading eternal weather reports. I did not knit, paint, write, read. Couldn’t settle to anything.

Watched the birds out on the so-called paddock. Crows, pigeons, lots of ducks, magpies, a stone curlew, ibis, plovers, and a couple of white cockatoos.

Pigeons work through the weeds in the foreground in the morning hours. A lot of birds sat companionably in the lee of that pile of rocks.

I watched a tree being pounded to the ground. This kurrajong held out until the second last day, in the constant and blustery east wind. It didn’t stand a chance, growing on the podium in what amounts to a planter, it’s roots wouldn’t have been deep enough for it to take the brunt of the wind.

And I baked bread, having just got a bread machine. The retirement village where I live has a back-up generator which meant we had a power interruption for all of about three seconds until the generator kicked in. Very lucky.

My second loaf. The inside looks somewhat grey, though the bread is very tasty.

Transforming Paintings

A thing I’ve been experimenting with is turning remaindered practice paintings into little books … seeing if judicious ‘analogue’ cutting and pasting can transform random images.

There was a left to right movement in this scrap … the two pages bound by ribbon had to stay loose from one another (ie not glued) or the whole booklet would’ve buckled.

Where are we? Help! I’m sliding … Uh oh where are we? Some kind of underworld?

is that a golden gate I see in the distance?. Maybe we can get there crawling …Turn the corner, quick …

In and out of the trees, I don’t feel safe in amongst all the vegetation. What’s all that gold doing to us?

Told you we changed. Let’s go already, it’s the wide blue yonder.

Guess we didn’t all get wings.

Stratocumulus

Streets and streets of stratocumulus in my sky today. These are lines of ordinary sheep IE cumulus clouds parading close together in lines.

It’s said they don’t, but sometimes do, produce rain. They graze the skies between 2000 and 6500 feet high.

Two thousand feet? That’s only 609.6 metres!

They’re a low cloud. These are the ones that you bump through while in a plane on the way down.

Stratocumulus has seven variations which we’ll come to as they are seen. The most famous, howver, is a stratocumulus that presents as a ‘roll cloud’ a long tube, that appears in Northern Australia in September and October.

This phenomenon is called the Morning Glory. Seen it anyone? I know there are some Australians among you. I’ve never seen it despite spending a few months in the area in the 1980s.

One thing about this weather report app that irritates me every day that I take notice is Visibility.

So we can see 24 kilometres, but only if we’re looking into the sky, at clouds. Or if you yourself are in space.

If you stand at sealevel, looking out over the sea, the horizon is about 4.8 kilometres away, and this is for a man of average height which is 5’ 10” or 1.75 metres.

If you look inland and you’re not standing on a mountain, it’d be a lot less, what with the lumps and bumps of most of the Earth.

Nimbostratus

I’ve been waiting all day for this cloud to produce the rain that is its primary feature. Rain, that is, that falls as far as the ground.

Nimbostratus

All cloud names are derived from Latin. ‘Nimbus’ means rain cloud. ‘Stratus’ I think means spread out. This one blankets the southern sky and hangs out in the middle cloud levels, between five and ten kilometres above sealevel.

Nimbostratus rains and rains and rains, so we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Unlike cumulonimbus, the anvil in the sky thunderclouds, nimbostratus begins its weeping without fanfare. It just starts to rain.

Which has always felt wrong to me, since most of my life I’ve lived in places that attracted thunder and lightning, hail and rain bucketing down. Storms, you know? It’s only since I’ve lived in Brisbane that I’ve experienced nimbostratus rain events.