The wind picked up yesterday, gusting so hard that I took down the shade sails in the back garden for fear that they blow away or snap their wooden fixture posts. It was obvious that this was not an innocent wind, but that it was carrying some force far more malevolent than itself.
Sure enough, by nightfall the low rumbles of thunder began rolling down the hills behind us. My daughter woke up frightened by the noise and came downstairs. We sat on the sofa and counted 30 seconds between a soft lightning flash and a distant growl of thunder. “See?” I said. “It’s very far away.”
Just a few moments later there was a blinding flash and immediately after a huge CLAP! shook the house.
The rain picked up too, forcing us to run round and close all the louvre windows – it was stotting so hard that the splashback could bounce up and in through the gaps.
The son et lumière show of a tropical storm continued through the night, waking both children several times. At around 4 a.m., Mr B found both kids in bed together teaching each other Spanish: “You’re mi hermano … and I’m mi hermana, you see?”
The rain was still in full force by the time I took them to school the following morning: the “little” rainy season had officially begun.
