Clikity-clack, cleack, falls the rain loudly on the hard cement floor of the patio; tit, tit, tit the rain falls on the ground, tet, tet, tet, as it falls on the paved road, tiickel, teckle as tiny puddles begin to build; brrruuuuummmmmbbllorrreee bellows the thunder from the dark cloud-filled sky, clity, clack, is the sound of lightning just as it flashes in a rage across the sky. Brrummble….. the thunder bellows and rumble…another sound of thunder that seems to roll along in the somewhat distance, the thunder with a much softer sound as it seems to be going away. One can still hear it just to remind us that it is still nearby. And no, I did not hear “pitter, patter” – the standard description of the sound of rain falling on the ground.

The sky is filled with dark blackish, grey, gloomy clouds, large and engulfing, looking like pyroclastic clouds, while it still has many laser flashlight lit moments from lightning, winds blowing strongly, adding to the shivering cold of getting wet by the heavy rain. It looks like this is going to go on for a long time….forever? Hope not.

As I sit in the veranda, sipping my hot, but not boiling, black double strong coffee in my Star Wars mug; sheltered from this wet scene, I cannot help but wonder how the birds that decorate the sky and the trees, usually chirping excitedly away; how are they faring in this what seems as an unforgiving, bully – type weather. Where are they taking shelter? Especially the very colourful species as they are quite rare here. Maybe, many perch themselves under the protruding roof lines of houses, but not all. Some can be seen in trees, but trees do not provide full shelter. How do they go in search of food if this weather holds up for long periods? All this “wondering” while I take a bite of a slice of the world’s best butter cake with icing; which only a few expert bakers, like my mum; can make. On the small, 3-tiered side-table with wheels; is a little blue and white China porcelain-like, curved saucer; with two delightful looking slices of suggee cake, waiting to be devoured. They will be – by me. This suggee cake – world’s best, made by my mum; too!

The flowers of all colours, well almost all; that fill the little rectangular flower boxes, beautiful on a bright sunny day when they are in full bloom – now they weather the heavy rain, their colourful petals closed; the rain beating harshly on them; the potted plants with no escape route from the weather; the plants in the ground, planted firmly so they won’t be uprooted in bad weather such as this – pity them, can we not?

About two hours later or what seemed like eternity; the dark, cross-eyed like angry bellowing clouds faded away. In its place came light greyish-white clouds with a hint of the sun trying to peek in between them. The pelting rain slowed to a light drizzle. The chirping and tweeting of birds started decorating the scenery giving reason for the flowers to start smiling again, showing off their very colourful petals and variants. One or two butterflies could be seen prancing and hopping around the flowers, in the process of cross-pollination.

Nature has taken its course.

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