Lukewarm

"Lukewarm" is how the wee man described us last night, situated half-way up the eastern coast of Australia, sandwiched between the searing temperatures and horrendous bushfires of the South (Victoria and South Australia) and the torrential downpours and heavy flooding of the North (Far North Queensland).

The irony struck me this morning, reflecting on this conversation, as I remembered that around this time last year I was blogging on the string of natural disasters that had touched our little part of the world (first here, then here), and wondering what was next.

I can live with "lukewarm".

Like all Australians, I'm incredibly sad for the people affected by the terrible bushfires in Victoria, now being described as the worst natural disaster in Australia's history. At least 107 people killed, and many more to be discovered, and countless families left homeless - entire towns razed to the ground. (See here for information and images.)

At the same time, I worry about members of my family, and many others, who are still threatened by rising floodwaters around the Townsville area.

Just as we all wonder how we're going to manage through a financial "crisis", Nature reminds us what being in crisis is really all about.


(PS. You can make a donation to aid the fire victims by direct debit with these details: Victoria Bushfire Relief Fund; BSB: 082-001; Account: 860 046 797. Money is the greatest need right now - many families have nothing more than the clothes they are wearing.)

What next? Fire? Famine?

First, there was this:




A tropical storm with golf-ball sized hailstones swept through Lismore in early October 2007. We were just about to leave the local shopping centre after doing groceries when it roared in like a train. That is the road the boys are looking at, 5 minutes after the storm hit.





Have a look at those rear windscreens...they're gone!
Driving through town afterwards was startling - everywhere, cars sported smashed front and rear windscreens and massive hail "dimpling", the streets were littered with leaves shredded from the trees by the force of the hailstones, houses had whole walls full of smashed windows and local landmarks like the old Post Office clock were badly damaged. Lismore was declared a natural disaster area, and millions of dollars of insurance claims were made.

Then, at the end of October, came this (as regular readers will remember, see here and here for story and more pictures):



(Image by Tim Hollis. I don't have an external shot, 'cos we were under it!)



Once again, our village as well as the Lismore region was declared a natural disaster zone (another hailstorm ripped through the whole area after our tornado), and we marvelled at Nature's power and destructive force.


And this morning, I wake to the first glimpse of sunshine since Christmas Day as this area has been subjected to days of torrential rain and gale-force winds (leaks in the house still not fixed since that tornado were sorely tested, and I have buckets and bowls in all sorts of unlikely places, and the four-poster bed in the middle of the room away from the worst of it), to see this:


(Image from ABC TV)

The Big Feller and the wee man are out looking at the extent of the flooding right now, but I grew up round here so have a pretty good idea what it's like out there. I hope the Big Feller might manage to take a half-decent photo so I can share it with you...his photograpic skills (cough, cough) are a little lacking.

Once again, Lismore is going to be declared a natural disaster zone. Even though the rain has eased at the moment, there is still so much water coming down from the mountains that source the local rivers...right where we used to live, actually.

So you can see why I am wondering what else the universe has in store for us at the moment? I don't want anything else to happen, and superstitiously wondered about the wisdom of choosing that post title.

Maybe the storm will be an internal one. Things are NOT good with me and the Big Feller. There are changes coming which may rip through our emotional landscapes with a force of a tornado.