I popped down to the local shops this morning to post a birthday card to my Texan sister-in-law.
“It’s a beautiful day out there,” said the man in the Postshop. “Again!” he added.
I agreed, “ but I’m not complaining.”
He nodded, then we stopped awkwardly. You could see we both felt a bit guilty, thinking of the farmers of New Zealand who are facing possible the worst drought in 75 years, and having seen the large headline in our daily newspaper that morning. The Big Dry: Just 20 days of water left the headline had roared at us over our breakfast. Yes, this ongoing good weather was hurting people, but as Wellingtonians starved over the last few years of a decent summer, how could we possibly complain?
Then I crossed the street in the bright sunshine, and entered Rosa, the café I often visit. I placed my order for a takeaway latte (ensuring I’ll get home and
do some work write a blog post rather than linger in the café and read for half an hour).
“Beautiful day,” said the cheerful woman who took my order, inevitably adding “Again!” with that faint feeling of delighted but tentative surprise that has gripped all of us this summer.
I spoke to a business colleague on the phone the other day. He asked if I was sick of the fine weather yet.
“Of course not!” I replied, horrified at the thought.
“But I do have to admit, every time the temperature dips a bit – as it did yesterday – I fear that summer is in fact over. It panics me!”
He admitted to doing the same, hoping that we at least have a few more weeks of barbecues and gelato, of beach visits and eating in the open air.
Yes, it’s another beautiful day here in beautiful Wellington. I can’t say that or write it without being a little surprised. And I know I’m not alone. Though rain is forecast for the weekend.