We'd been in Perth for our monthly shopping and recycling drop-off trip, so the ute and trailer were both chock-full of items that we didn’t want to get wet. Luckily, we had just enough time to open the front gate, drive up the driveway, unpack our groceries, and park the trailer in the shed, before the skies opened up and emptied their beautiful wet, life-bringing buckets of rain.
And what a sight (and sound) it was!
There were high winds causing the trees and shrubs to swirl and dance like no-one was watching; hail smashing-down all around us in a bouncing golf ball frenzy; lightning dashing back-and-forth amongst the clouds like giant neural impulses across the brain; and rain, rain and even more glorious rain.
And once the rain stopped and the thunder had passed, a new noise entered the landscape — one that resembled the sound of a small hammer busily and repeatedly repairing a shoe. And in the background another sound — a distinctive long, low trill that could be heard from some distance away.
With our head-torches on, we ventured outside to the house dam, which at this stage was filling up with not just water, but also hundreds of protruding eyes and webbed feet — frogs!