In March, we arrived in the rain. Sunday evening, Canberra airport, and a thick clingy drizzle. Being Wellingtonians this wasn’t anything particularly new. We just adopted our weather posture (a hunch, shrinking back into one’s clothes like a tortoise into its shell) and hurried to the rent-a-car, trying to keep our bags dry.
Rain in Wellington is so common it doesn’t even warrant comment. This isn’t the case in Canberra though. Over the next few days people advised us that the drizzle which had welcomed us to the city was really quite something.
“Several days of it.”
“Most rain we’ve had in 4 years, mate.”
Over time, and with the occasional intermittent deluge, that number increased.
“Dams haven’t been this high in 7 years.”
“Hasn’t been this much rain for 14 years.”
Finally the TV weatherman gave the official verdict.
“Canberra has had its wettest month in 20 years. The drought is over.”
That last comment made me chuckle. The drought breaking weather we’ve been experiencing – the most rain in 20 years! – equates to one, maybe two, days of rain a fortnight. Small bursts of wetness punctuating otherwise blue skies.
I’m pretty sure Canberra’s recent wet-spell would qualify as a plant destroying drought in Wellington.
Anyhow, I’m not complaining. Although, today, the weather is actually really, really bad. Even by New Zealand standards. A low, grey, damp, blanket of clouds across the sky. Windy, wet and cold.
Safe to say, I’m feeling more or less at home.