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shapeofthingsToo hot to sleep last night. Tossing, turning, up and down, seeking an unobtainabale comfort, thermal reprieve. Watching the new day dawn through red-rimmed eyes, scavenging the fragile breeze gracing my loungeroom. 6am medication to make sleep inevitable, a drift through the haze while the mercury soars still higher. Humid enough that the too-thin clouds precipitate none-the-less, warm dropless evaporating again on descent. Awaken to the midday steam and suffocation, listless. Join the silent choir are we raise our faces and pray for forgiveness in the form of cleansing of rain and new-born breeze. Revive me from this molten death of sleepless nights and still, steaming days as summer inches her blazing way across my hemisphere.
My parents' bought us a portable air-conditioner for Christmas. Wonderful gesture, but in the end a waste of money. Too inefiicient to provide releive from this muggy weather. Too noisy to sleep with it on but too hot to lie in bed with it off. Sleepless nights blend into lethargic days without reprieve. We were planning on buying oursleves a window-mount system before this gift and it looks as though we still need to. How to explain to parents their expensive present is a dud? We had already researched the pros and cons of such systems and knew them to be unsuited to our climatic demands.
The humididy is so high it is desperately trying to rain, but the clouds have not the body nor fortitude for a proper tropical downpour, and nothing can summon the recalcitrant breeze to come flirt with my curtains. Eating icecream because it is too hot for much else and wondering how to cool my cranium sufficiently to focus on much-needed work. Forecast gloom for the remaining week fills me with trepidation: I need to sleep, long, deep and dreaming, though nights that prickle the skin and drench the sheets with sweat. Temper and patience fraying after only a few hot nights here, at the extreme of the tropical monsoon, wandered south of it's bounding tropic to tug at southern Queensland. Each shopping centre, cinema and library will be filled with tormented citizens delaying the inevitable swelter, others will seek santuary by the ocean, braving the stingers brought in by the sultry north-westerly along the coast.
Ice-bricks float among the lily-leaves in my fish tank, poor compentation for a true, flowing stream. The morning's cicadas have retreated into silence and the crows pant outside my window, world gone quiet in reverence to the summers' ferocity. Thermometers read 33, not usually enough heat to rattle the locals but coupled with the overcast stillness the humidity pervades and conquers all but the hardiest. My eyes struggle to remain open, body craving more sleep, and a cold shower becons to cool my skin before laying myself in sacrifice before the fan. Year after year nature reminds me of my southern blood and the call of stiff southerlies off the antarctic ice. This northern summer is no delight to me
My parents' bought us a portable air-conditioner for Christmas. Wonderful gesture, but in the end a waste of money. Too inefiicient to provide releive from this muggy weather. Too noisy to sleep with it on but too hot to lie in bed with it off. Sleepless nights blend into lethargic days without reprieve. We were planning on buying oursleves a window-mount system before this gift and it looks as though we still need to. How to explain to parents their expensive present is a dud? We had already researched the pros and cons of such systems and knew them to be unsuited to our climatic demands.
The humididy is so high it is desperately trying to rain, but the clouds have not the body nor fortitude for a proper tropical downpour, and nothing can summon the recalcitrant breeze to come flirt with my curtains. Eating icecream because it is too hot for much else and wondering how to cool my cranium sufficiently to focus on much-needed work. Forecast gloom for the remaining week fills me with trepidation: I need to sleep, long, deep and dreaming, though nights that prickle the skin and drench the sheets with sweat. Temper and patience fraying after only a few hot nights here, at the extreme of the tropical monsoon, wandered south of it's bounding tropic to tug at southern Queensland. Each shopping centre, cinema and library will be filled with tormented citizens delaying the inevitable swelter, others will seek santuary by the ocean, braving the stingers brought in by the sultry north-westerly along the coast.
Ice-bricks float among the lily-leaves in my fish tank, poor compentation for a true, flowing stream. The morning's cicadas have retreated into silence and the crows pant outside my window, world gone quiet in reverence to the summers' ferocity. Thermometers read 33, not usually enough heat to rattle the locals but coupled with the overcast stillness the humidity pervades and conquers all but the hardiest. My eyes struggle to remain open, body craving more sleep, and a cold shower becons to cool my skin before laying myself in sacrifice before the fan. Year after year nature reminds me of my southern blood and the call of stiff southerlies off the antarctic ice. This northern summer is no delight to me