Heavenly Beverley : That was Quick. Goodbye Spring.

"Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three-o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum. . ."

This is one of my favourite quotes from "To Kill A Mockingbird". Our young heroine, Scout, describes summer in Maycomb with such vivid language that I am right there with her in that dusty little town.

Actually, feeling like one of Maycomb's ladies is not particularly difficult today. The sky is overcast again and the humidity is high. Summer has slammed into the Wheatbelt with very little warning and not enough time to allow us to catch our breaths.

I have spent the last three months longing for the sun and the warmth. When will I ever learn to be careful what you wish for?

The early winter was quite pleasant after a weirdly wet late summer and autumn that caused the Avon River to break her banks. Farmers were confident of a good season. Then June was exceptionally dry, so they ceased to be cheerful and became increasingly anxious.

I am convinced the weather gods listened to every whinge. As a result, the rain started in early July and didn't let up until the end of August. The cool weather continued with further bursts of showery days. We were still wearing cardigans during the day right through October. Sure, there were some really beautiful days, but none too many of them. And the nights continued to be cold, like ugg boots and fluffy dressing gowns cold.

So, after a wet and long winter and an exceedingly short spring, November has erupted with hot days and warm nights. As I sit here in the Gallery, the streets are practically deserted in the stillness of mid-afternoon heat. Today, I have sold one postcard.

The good news is that any risk of frost vanished during October. The crops have taken on a fiercely golden-straw hue. Harvest is in full swing for some. Others are patiently waiting for their time, with half an eye on the sky, watching for an unexpected thunderstorm. Hoping for the best. Farming is and will remain an intense gamble. Climate change is not doing anybody any favours.

For the second year in a row, these conditions are proving trying for our much-loved plants, particularly the deciduous trees. As new leaves sprout, they are being burnt off by the sun's intensity. We had hoped to have our courtyard built and our pots moved to their new positions before summer struck.

No such luck, thanks to our battles with the Water Corporation and Western Power. However, we may be close to the end of our five-month-marathon disputes. The Water Corporation finally admitted their mistake and installed a new water main. We still have the old water main along our boundary. But at least this old water main has been decommissioned. Pity about the dust storms.

Yesterday, after a flurry of e-mails, Western Power made a reasonable offer for our domestic connection. We were heartily relieved and immediately accepted the offer, returning their document within a couple of hours so they could generate an invoice for us. Unfortunately, safe in their air-conditioned offices, they have yet to issue that invoice.

So, on Monday I will be returning to mobile and e-mail to request a bit more urgency (again) in connecting us to power. When will this saga ever end? *sigh*

At four o'clock, I shut the doors to the Gallery. With a little help from Michael, I wiggled my round body into my polka dotted togs and headed for the pool with Jan. Vanessa and Lynn were already there. We formed a formidable coven of slightly grumpy witches and kept the hoards of children at bay with minimal fuss. We had an entire hour of cool luxurious bliss.

How lucky we are to have a town pool!

One up on Maycomb.