I Cannot Read the Clouds

One of the difficulties with moving to a new country/state/city/neighborhood (if in SF) is not knowing how to read the weather. Each morning, I look out the window and try to guess what the day will bring. Thick heavy clouds and wind should equal cold and raining. Brilliant blue sky and breeze should equal warm. But it's Melbourne where the weather is, as they say, changeable. Adding to my weather confusion is the fact that at work I sit by wonderfully large windows, which offer fabulous views of trees and sky, and under the less-than-wonderful air conditioning vent. It can be downright cold at my desk - chilling, sneezing cold.

Yesterday, I watched as the trees outside the window threatened to join me at my desk, invited in by a viscious wind. The heavy grey clouds lit the middle of day as if it was dusk. Imagine my shock when I stepped outside at 5pm into a sauna. The air seemed to have taken on a personality - that of a sulky, brooding, tempestuous child. It was thick and tropical. The wind rushed in ferocious bursts blowing dust into my eyes. And then it began to rain a little - or more correctly, occasional drops of water hurtled from the sky. The result felt like pins and needles as cold droplets hit very warm skin.

When we got home around 11pm, the thermometer on the Abruzzo club's sign said it was 27C. And today? It's been beautifully sunny and breezy - and cool; this morning it was 16C. I may just have to concede this match: Melbourne weather 2, Bartlebee 0.