The weather

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This morning is sunny again, there was not so much rain after all. A knot of three good friends stand up against the shop window to discuss the problem of rain. Because it won’t come.

The rain, it’s shy this year.

It is, Mavis, why don’t you get out there, get it organised.

I’ve got a garden show this morning, after that, it can come, blast it. Needs to wait off till two. Then I’ll allow it.

Well, well then, hope it obliges. You’re a card! That’s what I say!

You don’t anything, Hank!

Then they all shrieked with laughter, picked up their bags and stepped carefully onward to the next part of their day: the information centre, Woolworths, an autumn garden show.

 

The Drought

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This morning when I was outside the shop sweeping, a man stopped to commend my work but thought it was a waste of time until at least we get some rain. He had a tray with four coffees and was walking back to his car, parked across the road. There were three people in his car, looking out at the coffees.

But he stayed to chat for a while, talking about the rain that was coming this week, how the ground needed a drink, about his garden back home, his dog, his library and the dust in the air and how he could tell his wife was getting mad because now she was winding the car window down. He turned to go and said, well, you know what they say about the rain, it always buggers up a good drought!