Lunar Eclipse Archives - La Colina Project

Mostly Different

May 30, 2024May 30, 2024
by Beave

February does indeed arrive with the promise of slower days and the chance to rest up. February is a liar. We have a new set of friends staying in the jungle with us and a significant contingent of current visitors that stubbornly refuse to leave. They come for a week and stay for a few months. Don’t blame them at all. More guests of guests arrive and our community is once again injected with a fresh dose of somewhat exhausting activity and enthusiasm.

My birthday comes around again. Glad to be older. It’s the time of year when the Cirque de Los Ninos put on my birthday show for me (and the town). Again it’s a well-produced and much practiced display of young talented future superstars. Cirque du Soleil has already snapped up a few of these kids. A large contingent of us go to support and be entertained and are, once again, all suitably impressed.

Our place is finally feeling a little more sorted and relaxed than in previous years. We are for the first time in a long time only looking at maintenance projects. We are not building anything new but there are still very many calls on our attention.

We decide to leave town for 48 hours. Bit controversial as we haven’t been away from the jungle at all this year, actually maybe six months or more. LCD Sound System, a UK band from back-in-the-day is playing yet another comeback gig in Guadalajara. A bunch of us, mostly from back-in-the-day, decide to rent a place and go for the night. It’s a big opportunity to dress up, eat food and dress up and go dancing. A lot of dressing up is apparently required. It’s good to be away and celebrate my actual birthday.

We return to our list of things to do in the jungle which remains endless and keeps us busy enough. Keeping the water, power and internet running around the property is almost a full time job. We have roofs that we are repairing too often and need replacing. We have a huge empty pool that we need to transform back into a natural pool to avoid the constant demands of a needy chlorine-hungry version. There is mostly an overwhelming amount to do but we are seriously looking at the possibly of going to places elsewhere for a change. Take a few more jungle breaks. We have earned them.

There is a total eclipse happening and the one spot NASA has suggested is the very best place to experience it, in the world, is Mazatlán. This is only five hours away. The sun will be fully blocked by the moon for over 4 minutes in this one spot. Pretty much everyone we know in San Pancho and a large amount of Jayne’s family and a bunch of extra Canadians decide it’s too good an opportunity to miss and arrange to be there. It’s been planned for many months and there are a number of houses already booked on the beach. After we stage family and friends in the jungle for a day or two over forty of us embark on the long drive North and descend on Mazatlán.

We end up in a large high ceiling party house where everyone from other houses meets up to eat and DJ and swim in the indoor pool. It’s an extraordinary experience.

We are on the beach a few hours before the “totality” and the light changes, the wind changes and the fluffy clouds that scatter the sky takes on mind bending forms, colours and shapes. Right before the moment the moon covered the very last piece of the sun it was pretty much full daylight. A surreal sepia tinged daylight but in no way dark. As the last tiny speck of sunlight is covered by the moon all the light goes. Silence. Dark. The horizon a full 360 degree sunset. Remarkable. Spiritual. Emotional.

We spend the rest of the day adventuring in many varied, profound and ridiculous ways before meeting up for sunset. We have been blessed by sunsets but this sunset somehow took on a mystical significance. The world resets and normal service resumed. On this beach with this unbelievably beautiful sunset we all ground ourselves and moved on. Grateful and renewed.

One of our newest jungle residents is a rather superb artist. Probably my favorite so we try and take full advantage of her skills while she is here. Her ability with oil paints is legendary and her hand poked tattoos are sought after by all those that know about such things. There are a couple of projects that we have wanted her to help us with for years. The first being a mural on our new bodega wall. It is something that we don’t want to show off till it’s ready and there is a lot more finishing to do. but there are already really funky sections of it that look so good that we offer here a few premature sneak peeks. It’s months of work. No real planning. A flow of creative consciousness. Exciting.

Something very unexpected and entirely disruptive appears in our lives. Over the years we have stayed in touch with our great friends in New Zealand. We have created amazing things together over the last dozen years and more. They have had a daft idea to build something strange at Burning Man in Nevada for some time. This year they threw the dice and decided to put in an application to see if by some remote chance their idea would attract some money . By some shift in the force, universal fart or cosmic comedy they were enthusiastically encouraged , supported and ultimately offered an honorarium grant to build a 60 foot traffic cone and burn it.

The main artist is a close friend and has been fundamental in the production of some of the most beautiful projects that we have nurtured together with fabulous success over many years. Now we are committed to creating a massive traffic cone. A traffic cone. A massive one… Coney Mc Coneface ….. WTF???

Despite my absolute amazement that anyone would give “us” any money to do this, we are, by default, all in. We can’t sit in Mexico when our mates in New Zealand are struggling to build in Reno, Nevada and assemble in the desert and blow this thing up. It’s not anything that I would have planned for us but the universe has spoken. We are now project leads with the mission to bring Coney McConeface (a 60 foot traffic cone) to Burning Man 2024. Of course we are. FFS.

Water water bloody water. It’s almost scary to find out the our well is running dry. It’s two months earlier than ever before. The effect of last year’s crap rainy season showing up to bugger us up. Our new house has a massive cistern which we installed in anticipation of this situation. It’s been coming for a while. We keep it filled by “pipa” water trucks but the rest of the places we have must survive without till the rains come.

The San Pancho well is also dry. Town taps are turned off for long periods. There are accusations that the two out of town cement works that are busier than ever have not helped the situation. Rumours are that we are heading into a period of record high temperatures and low rain fall. Not good news.

Coney McConeface is doing my head in. I forgot how much work these projects take. We need to persuade people that giving money to a crazy burning man project is a great idea. We have to persuade dozens of folk to give us their time and skills for the love of it. No one gets paid. We need to find a build space in Reno that doesn’t cost us a fortune and is big enough to birth a massive traffic cone. We have a crew to feed. Having folk starve to death while building for free is not a good look. We need to plan a burn and a week of interaction attracting as many cone fans as possible. We mustn’t forget that it’s a remarkably difficult shape to construct and we have to build all 60 feet of it. Why are we doing this ?

My biggest surprise is how many people are madly enthusiastic about our project. It’s a bloody traffic cone but who knew the global love and affection for a traffic cone. I had no idea. This project has had more traction worldwide than any other project we have done. It’s quite remarkable that the modest traffic cone can muster so much love and support??!! So many cone heads.

Our friends in South Africa are a persuasive bunch. They have invited us to camp with them at Afrikaburn. This would give us the chance to get away from jungles and cones and see many of our old friends. We could sneak in some safaris and even get to see more friends while checking out Mozambique. We have been to Capetown and Afrikaburn a number of times and absolutely love it. Last time was 2017 so it’s been a while.

I was born in Lusaka, Zambia and our revisit there was very special. Africa is part of my childhood and still holds nostalgia and excitement. After some consideration we decide that we will indeed spend a month in South Africa & Mozambique. It doesn’t give us much time to prepare. A number of good mates from San Pancho are going to meet us there. This has the potential to be a proper adventure.

The proper adventure begins with a few hour flight to Atlanta and a 14 hour hop to Capetown. It’s been a long time since I was stuck in one of those seats for that long. I have certain challenges. I have a lot more legs than the area designated for me to fold them into. Also my shoulders are wider than any economy seat. If anyone passes by they invariably nudge me with their hips to check I’m awake or just bloody irritate me. Worse are the service trolleys that clip chunks out of me. I bravely and patiently meditate my way through this ordeal, occasionally swearing loudly at some clumsy twat or trolley.

We have a soft landing at a friend’s house in town and spend the next few days preparing to be out of touch in the deep semi-desert of the Karoo for over a week. There is much biltong and steak pies to buy. There are jobs to be done in prepration at the bustling workshop which is crammed with remarkable art cars and a ten tonne lorry packed with everything we need for a large camp of 190 souls.

We collect our van home and meet up with fabulous mates who lend us a mattresses, coolers and all the things we need. It saves us a heap of time and rand. We drive back to town and end up in a small industrial estate where the art cars are being prepared for travel. Suddenly the vans horn starts blaring and the engine cuts off. The tracker thinks the van is being stolen. Despite calling the rental company many times it is still disturbing us and the neighbourhood an hour later. We disconnect the horn manually and abandon it. We are exhausted and have had enough. We get a cab to meet up with our San Pancho friends who have all now landed. We restore ourselves with a visit to a fabulous Capetown restaurant. And we arrange to do the same the next night too. The Rand is currently similar value to the Mexican peso so we are feeling relatively flush.

We have arranged to arrive early on site to help build the Mad Hatters camp. There are a number of huge stretch tents holding all the people. There is a large separate lounge and DJ area to construct. A bar and coffee station is ready to commission. There is a small painted tent full of cushions to erect. A big ten tonne truck is in need of unpacking then re-worked into a flaming mobile DJ machine. There are a number of the art cars from the workshop for us to use. We are voluntold to tow one of them and a caravan.

The time comes and we load the trailer and prepare to leave. It’s going to be a long journey over notoriously tyre shredding roads. The winds off table mountain are surprisingly strong and we decide, very wisely, to delay our late afternoon departure. We have a convoy of three cars, an art car strapped to a trailer and a long caravan. We agree to set off at around 10am the next morning and head North very slowly. By the afternoon we are on tiny rough arse unpaved tracks taking us through the mountains and down onto the vast Karoo where the site is. The art car trailer keeps snapping ratchet straps so it’s stop start and even when we are at full speed it’s a glacial pace.

As we get within 30 km we are shaken to bits by endless washboard ruts. The suspension diverts the vibrations through the wheels to our our tail bones and right up to our delicate exhausted skulls. It’s unpleasant but eventually over. It’s dark. The sky hold up a bright orange moon to welcome us. We avoid the sand traps, and gratefully park up our van after 10 hours of travel. The van will be our home for the next 10 days. It is kitted out with a mattress in the back, lights and whole heap of wine and snacks. We manoeuvre so the side door is facing the sunset. We sleep the sleep of the travelled.

Our phones have no signal and are effectively cameras only. I turn mine off and hide it in the van. I don’t touch it again till we leave. It’s a remarkably nostalgic feeling to be out of touch and everything be just fine. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t touch my phone for over a week. I recommend it.

Afrikaburn is a extraordinary event with seemingly endless examples of creativity, interaction and art. Our art cars arrive to ferry us around but we spend hours trekking the hard rocky ground finding treats everywhere. Burlesque shows, large art installations, small art installations, slap bars, endless dance floors and an enormous LED flying insect on a scissor lift. We see a lot of and catch a number of large and small scale burns.

Our own camp has themed bar takeovers every day and a quite remarkable Mad Hatters Tea Party where we distributed free hair extensions, finger puppets, hats and pyjamas. Next to the bar a shipping container was converted into a large mirror room to play in. The whole space was monitored by cameras. The image sent into a huge telescope on the dunes where you could watch the mirror room nonsense. Add a bunch of lights, lasers, music, flame effects and projection and it makes for a uniquely surreal playground.

After we had packed up and gathered what was left of our senses we head out to a rather posh and peaceful lodge to recover. It’s located a few hours from site, stuck up towards the mountain with the Karoo spread out in front of us. Two days of doing very little but watch the stars, look out for tortoises, eat, sleep and soak in the wood fired hot tub. Bliss.

We make the hot drive back to Capetown. After a fairly hectic day of unpacking, laundry and dropping off our van-home we jump a flight to Kruger National Park. There is a small group from Afrikaburn who meet us at the airport. They have arranged a series of safaris and a some time supporting an orphanage in the nearby village. After a stop to load up with wine and endless snacks we eventually arrive at a super posh lodge. It’s stunning. We commandeer the entire first floor. To my absolute joy we find a large deep bath in our room.

Before we have a chance to collapse, drink tea or even draw a bath we are whisked off on our first game drive. We are soon surrounded by giraffe and elephants as the sun sets spectacularly.

The next few days we take a few more game drives and see some incredible sights. The animals are numerous and wild. It’s amazing to be so close to them in the park. We have morning coffee at the restaurant watching the massive hippos in the river outside our lodge. We have a team of masseuse on hand and dinners cooked for us by private chefs. I have already taken six long baths. We are so very privileged and we know it.

Our visit to the local village brings this overriding feeling of privilege home; hard. It’s one of many that are populated with a large number of Mozambiquans who walked through Kruger to escape the civil war. Those that were not eaten by lions settled here.

The community has since been devastated by AIDS and the result is a large number of children without parents. We meet them at the local community centre. We kick footballs and listen to them sing to us while delivering colouring books and stick toys that are enthusiastically received. The grounds have a small farm in development where the kids grow staples to add to their diet. For many the food they get here is their only food. Siblings stick together holding hands and the older boys take charge and keep everyone as happy and safe as they are able.

We return a day or two later with individual pizzas for every child. It’s like Christmas for them. Some kids are sitting in a pile of debris on the road and we carry a few pizzas out for them. They immediately race off excitedly to find friends to share with. Just feeding these kids takes a lot of time and commitment from many local ladies. Holding their hands or tackling a football from them is a truly humbling experience. They look on us with huge inquisitive eyes as if we are from an entirely different world. In many ways they are absolutely right.

Our next stop on the way is Mozambique. We have friends from San Pancho there we want to catch up with. There is also a contingent from Afrikaburn that travel with us who intend to have a few beach days and a big party weekend. The border is a challenge. The grumpiest and least helpful immigration folk on the planet. You can’t find advice, a pencil or the correct form anywhere but the walls are filled with condom dispensers. Hundreds of free condoms everywhere (to combat the AIDS epidemic). We eventually arrive in Maputo late and weary and check into a very basic downtown apartment.

Maputo has a level of poverty one might expect from an African capital city but is surprisingly expensive. It’s apparently twice the price of South Africa. It was a thriving country at one point until the Portuguese were kicked out.The Chinese are shipping vast quantities of coal across the border to ship to China and ISIS are at war with the military in the North. It’s complicated.

We try and connect to the internet but are told that this will not be possible as a submarine has knocked out both the countries sub ocean internet cables. Strange but true. We pack up our phones and only use them for photographs. It’s again quite liberating. After failing to find a SIM card that would work and buying some African fabric we collapse into our apartment with overpriced jerk chicken and decide to leave the city as soon as we can.

Our friends lend us their car and we head South to a beach town that has cliffs above that we are told we can jump from attached to paragliders. We meet up with the Afrikaburn bunch who are having a beach day before heading for the hills. We spend two days almost jumping off a cliff overlooking a spectacularly long, beautiful and deserted beach. The wind was never the right flavour or strength so nothing much happened. We are in a cliff resort by ourselves surrounded by all the staff and huge monkeys that crash around on our roof. As it turns out, doing nothing for a few days was exactly what we needed to do.

Coney Mc Coneface is taking on a life of its own. I’m getting pictures of cones sent to me from all over the world all the time. Our crew has launched our first fundraiser while we have been off grid and we are strategizing about how we are going to persuade folk to help us fund this thing. Art support fundraising is a tough gig. We have a lots of offers of help so that’s a good start. www.conecophony.com

We are very generously hosted in Maputo by our old mates and new Afrikaburn friends and are whisked off to the city’s hot spots before peeling off around midnight. To our deep frustration our well planned flight back has been moved from a respectable midday departure to a horrendous up-at-5am spot. This does not start our day well.

On the way to the airport we are stopped by police just to see if they can get some money out of us. At the airport we argue with customs who try and remove batteries from our hand luggage and other stupidness. I spend the last of the local metical money on a cup of tea and then the tea lady makes a fuss and tries to charge me for a splash of milk. It’s all getting a bit much for 6 am. We land in Johannesburg to connect with our flight to Capetown 5 hours too early. Its hundreds of dollars to change to an earlier flights so we wait for check in at an old school Wimpy. As soon as we are able we check into a quiet, clean and posh airport lounge where we can indulge ourselves in soft furnishings and tea, with milk.

When we land in Capetown we have a day to pack and prepare for the journey home. We perhaps did not make the very best decisions and may have extended our farewells a little late into the night. Just before we leave for the airport we are whisked up the mountain, attached to a kite and thrown off to fly over the city and land on the beach. It’s exhilarating even with a near fatal hangover.

We are like white sweaty zombies as we check in for the flight to Atlanta at 9pm. It’s another 22 hours of enduring further twats and trollies before we make it home. To our jungle. Which we miss greatly. And where we eventually get to properly sleep, deep and long, for at least a week.

Mausetrappe has recently decided to lick my head clean whenever she is able

Jungle Journal

Hot Bees, Fire and Water.

June 4, 2021June 4, 2021
by Beave

We are currently being wooed by cuteness. The huge man-eating Rhodesian ridgeback couple that live in the ranch nearby have just popped out a litter of a eight pups. Now even the most bitey beasts trained to take down lions are cute for a while. Our friends are very keen that we take a few of these mini-monsters to live on our land and protect us from pretty much anything we can think of. The cuteness is tempting but these are pedigree dogs and valued way too much to consider. We have a number of semi-feral dogs that have adopted us and gratefully mop up all the bones and leftovers we toss over the balcony. They very usefully howl and make an appropriate fuss when they smell jaguars coming out of the jungle to hunt. If we were to take on a jungle dog there are large packs of more ugly rescue street hounds constantly in need of short or long-term homes to choose from. We again decide to defer committing to a full-time dog just yet. I’m sure our dog will eventually find us.

Our well is dry and that’s a problem. I dragged our sad water pump 20 metres up to find it clogged with a four foot long beard of grass and debris. The whole area is in drought. It’s proper dry and dusty as hell. There has not been enough rain in the mountains to fill the aquifers so we are buggered. The tinacos are low and running out fast so we need to do something. After a bit of research and a few outings kicking large plastic containers we buy a big blue 5000 litre cistern and have it delivered. We hire a machine and have a 2.5m x 1.5m round hole dug. We then refine the area with shovels so the cistern drops in level and true. We dig it in next to our turtle well and then spend some days trying to find a pipa water truck that will come out and fill it up. They are few and far between at this time of year when everyone is out of water. We can then drop the well pump into it and fill the tinacos. That should get us by until the rains come. There is a tropical storm forecast so things may change sooner than we think.

So, the rains they are a certainly a-comin.. In preparation, we survey where the arroyo will soon flow past our gate and urgently bring in the machine. We realise that if the floods come down the mountains it will cut our access road to the treehouse in two and we would be driving into a plunge pool if we needed to get out. Much moving of earth later the river now has a clear route safely past us and the dirt has been piled high enough to create a road which theoretically will not wash away immediately.

If there’s rain then a roof that works is always a good thing. Ours does not and we need that to change. Our treehouse palapa roof is the more robust and expensive Palapa Royal. These are tufts of palm leaves that are woven together with sheets of plastic to create a waterproof seal inside and a huge fluffy roof up top. The bugger is, that in order for us to have our old knackered leaky roof removed and a brand new sexy one installed, then we need to move us and most of our stuff out.

It’s a crap job but we have put it off long enough and resign ourselves get it done. We move most of our stuff under the bed and create a few strategic piles of boxes and cover the bed and everything else in tarps. All breakable stuff is boxed and stored outside in a highly useful temporary shed we were gifted over a year ago but never took the time to collect.

We are lucky enough to move into a beach front air conditioned room at our lovely friend’s house for a week. It’s really not so bad. We take time to enjoy being in town as Jake looks after the jungle. I’m at the house every day making sure the roof doesn’t go on upside down but the crew are great and do an extraordinary job and somehow don’t leave the place a mess. It’s a full week away from our beloved treehouse but it’s so worth it. The roof not only looks fabulous but we are safe in the knowledge that when the rains eventually get here we can smugly prance about without getting dripped on. Our first fully operational tree house roof.

Our highly useful Razor has stuffed up again. The bracket that holds the gear stick in place has snapped off. Without it it’s impossible to shift gears and it’s stuck in park so can’t be moved. The only gas welder in town has broken and we don’t have the power for an electric welder so we are out of options. The Razor stays parked up outside our house for a few weeks. We attempt to get enough power to a welder from our generator tied solar system a few times but with no luck. In desperation, we find our old portable generator which Jayne’s Dad had modified to give double the amps before the fuse blows. Despite spluttering and groaning in clear distress, somehow, we manage to extract enough juice out of it to get the welder to melt the bits in place. Thanks to our metal whisperer the welds hold and our Razor is back in service.

It’s not just us who are feeling the heat. Our bees have been active and appear happy enough. We have checked and there is a lot of honey being produced out of our four hives. Although shaded from direct sun, mottled sunlight has heated up the hives to the point where many of the bees have relocated to outside the hot boxes. They cling to the outside of the west side where the entrance is. It appears to offer the most shade and catches the most breeze. It’s completely understandable.

Our cow proof gate is ready. It lands at our place for two days so we can degrease it and add undercoat before it is hung. Jayne has extended the electric wires from the pool house and has prepared all the power we need for our automatic remote control hydraulic gate opening arm to function.

The day arrives and brackets and frames are bolted into our walls and the gate hangs, swings and closes. We are one side. The cows the other. We are delighted. After some buggering about we have the added benefit of pushing a remote-control button to instruct our newly installed robot arm to elegantly and slowly open and close the thing on demand without us having to jump in and out of the truck half a dozen times a day. Our plants are now safe. Looks sexy too.

Because it doesn’t seem like we are doing enough at the moment it has been decided that we need to rip out our kitchen countertop and sink. It is true that the sink is set in a badly warped and rotten wood frame which leaks. It is also true that the kitchen counter has not been replaced for three years. The termite eaten wood is covered in a dirty old plastic leather material and perhaps not the most hygienic of surfaces. Our architect has gifted us a number of large ceramic tiles which has been a catalyst to action. Old damp termitey wood is torn out and new wood is found, treated and cut to shape. A new sink is acquired and Jayne sets to work tiling and grouting for all she is worth. The result is a new shiny sink, posh taps that work (and don’t leak) and a respectable work surface that now shows all the dirt rather than hiding it. An improvement I am assured.

It’s getting proper hot. All the spring leaves have fallen and lay on the jungle floor in a thick carpet. It’s impossible to move around silently on top of the bone-dry covering. The whip lizards that usually go about their business unseen are now obvious as they flit about noisily through piles of leaves. There are hundreds of them attracting all sorts of predators. They move at lightning speed and drive the cats insane.

The lunar eclipse came and went very early in the morning. Too early for some but our intrepid photographers were dedicated enough to get up early, drink enough coffee to capture it beautifully.

Photo credit: John Curley.

It’s that sweaty time of year again. Even a simple job requiring me to be outside for anytime means I am soaked. I rehydrate, hang my shirt and pants on the balcony railing and lay on a towel for half an hour until they dry out. It is true that I am a muck magnet but now I’m working in this dust laden humidity its getting ridiculous. My general state of being is pretty much always damp and filthy. I’m having about three showers a day but that doesn’t seem to be helping that much. For reasons I don’t fully understand my finger nails cannot stay clean for more than a few moments. I am clearly a joy to live with.

June is here. It’s the month of the stupid flying June bugs. Weeks of avoiding the hard shelled idiots flying into your face. I have a friend in town who entertains herself by putting a light on in the evening, opening a window. As the June bugs fly in she swiftly returns them to the night with a badminton racket. Hours of fun.

The annual cicadas are back too. They have started performing their invasive droning whistle as the sunsets every night. There are a few hundred of them at the moment soon to be joined by thousands more. It will become a deafening chorus for about 20 minutes every night for weeks.

It’s late in the afternoon and as we are walking towards the treehouse there is a peculiar sound that takes our attention. It’s coming from the hills that surround us to the South. It’s a series of cracks and what appear to be small explosions. We find a good vantage point on our balcony and watch as thick dark smoke appears over the rise of the hill directly above us. The noise gets louder and it becomes clear that there is a forest fire heading our way. The wind is light but in our faces and fanning flames that are now visible. They are at least 40 feet high. Some bigger than that. There is a gently but sinister fall of ash in the air. There is a line of flames now at the crest of the hill busily devouring the dry trees and scrub as they start to head down the slope towards us. This is not good. We have no way of stopping it.

We are blessed. As the sun gets low in the sky the wind changes and moves off shore. We can see the glow of burning scrub along the horizon but it has stopped moving, the flames are much smaller and the noise much less aggressive. It takes a while but we start to relax again, confident that without the wind assistance the fire has burnt itself out. There are a number of highly experienced retired Californian fire fighters living locally. They have seen things they can’t talk about. They have often suggested to us that the humidity levels we live with here protect us from forest fires. This may well be generally true but the current drought and a little wind have made us think again.

The long-awaited pipa water truck arrives. Much celebration. The town water supply is almost done for the season and these trucks are in massive demand. A number of them have broken down so getting one to venture out this far is a result. The new cistern has been sitting for a few days and when we fill her up we find a few visitors have found their way in. With the help of a flour sieve I manage to reach in and rescue two fair sized lizards and a small snake. They are half drowned but grateful for the reprieve. The rest of the water goes in the pool. We are going to need that to survive soon.

Just about as soon as the pipa truck leaves tropical storm Blanca appears out at sea. We are subject to 24 hours of cloud which prevents me pumping our new water to where we need it with the solar well pump. In anticipation, we take down the hammocks and put everything else that won’t appreciate getting wet in safer places. It’s midnight and there are light sounds of rain in the trees, then the muffled noise of water pouring off our new roof, then it comes.

The rain, lightning and thunder are loud enough to keep my attention all night but it’s the sound of over vocal horny frogs and toads appearing from hibernation and getting at it in our pool that keeps me from sleeping. The roof holds up. We have indeed smugly pranced about and have not been dripped on. Amazing.

It’s a pleasure to experience the morning after. Petrichor (the smell of rain on dry earth) infuses everything. I reluctantly fish out of the pool the few over sexed exhausted frogs that don’t have the stamina to save themselves. Nature is alive and well after a long night. The rivers are still dry but the plants look vibrant after their welcome soaking. The storm has passed and we told we are due another few weeks of sun and dry. Raining season is not here yet. With our new river road, new gate, new roof, new kitchen top, newly repaired Razor, and new water store we should be prepared. We are not worried.