The rain dances have finally worked, and about a week after stage 3 water restrictions were announced, we’ve had the coldest, wettest Christmas imaginable. In fact, I heard it was the coldest Christmas in Melbourne’s history, with the temperature reaching just 14.5 degrees. Winter coats and umbrellas were dragged out and dusted off, sandals flung back into the wardrobe to be replaced by stout boots, and for once roast Christmas lunches were truly welcome – not to mention the open fire we had in the living room.
Four days ago we sweltered in 35-degree heat, and used the air-conditioning.
I’m not sure the rain will have done much for our desperate dams, but it should at least have put out the terrible bushfires that have been ravaging the state for the past couple of weeks. I even heard there was hail and snow in the high country. My cousin, a photographer, took some photos up there yesterday and it was quite something to see the charred trees and debris, still smoking and steaming above a carpet of hailstones.