I'm usually a big fan of the rain. A big fan. There's not much I like more than snuggling under the doona on a grey day and sleeping in. Now it's a bit of a luxury, but I still love crawling into bed to the gentle pitter patter on the roof.
But enough of the rain. Where's summer? Where the heck is it?
For one thing, I had visions of a summer full of early runs to the beach, madly constructed sand castles, twilight bbqs, ice creams melting down arms, mangoes - oh sweet mangoes dribbling down faces. Cicadas burring in the background, the constant feel of holidays that summer brings with it.
I heard from a friend that the next two months are going to be raining. With that, on top of the rain and grey days (not to mention cold - hello, tracky daks anyone???), I am sick of the rain. Send it to the drought stricken areas, fine. An occasional rainy day is welcome - but damn fool, this is the straw that broke the camel's back.
And all to think, I had a great summer wardrobe for my newborn, and now hardly any of it's been worn since it's been too cold. HMPH!