PERTH AT EASTER

PERTH AT EASTER.
No wind-blown leaves here and never a hint of frost.
Trees refused to shed their canopies and relentless sunshine so scorched the lawns and foliage that sand seeped out to reclaim the once grass-covered space.

Out in suburbia, nothing and nobody moved.
Neat, well-appointed houses promised all and sumptuous creature comforts.
But surrounding land and nature strips seemed all but defeated by relentless solar assault.

Voices carrie over high garden fences on the barbecue-scented breeze. They told of laughter, social camaraderie and sometimes domestic strife.
A large, car and trailered-boat impeded the roadway, as husband and wife disputed the best reversing technique to avoid collision with her garaged car.

There was only me walking.Where was everyone? Gone away for the Easter weekend? Out on Perth’s fine and frequent surf lapped beaches? Or sheltering indoors with packs of stubbies and pizzas, before the giant plasma screen?

Radio disc jockeys burbled bonhomie, dispensing effusive Happy Easter greetings, blissfully unaware that Good Friday is the day of sacrifice and agony and that only on Sunday, does suffering resurrect into universal Christian happiness.

When might a cloud appear? Just a rippling shadow across the sun would do and maybe even a brief refreshing shower or two?
Far to the state’s south was cool and wet, whilst far to the north, monsoonal storms and deluges still held sway.

But, Perth, incarcerated in its bubble of unrelenting warmth, guarded by a sun that knows but to rise and set, and not to go away.
Football had started on concrete-hard grounds, played with no taking of prisoners in temps often higher than 30°C.

Surely autumn must be on us, but winter must be very, very, far behind.