Friday's front.

Almost every evening for the past two weeks we have had the most incredible tropical fronts. Climbing and expanding, tendrils reaching skyward, multiplying out of nothing, exponential growth. Cumulus versus cumulus, seemingly trying to outdo one another. All of this the encore for a high energy lightning show that doesn’t seem to tire. Continuous flickering, a slow motion strobe, a grandma disco in the sky. Forks reaching as far as they dare, splitting the sky, lighting the night. Forked reflections parting the ocean with each strike.

Rather than a flash, flicker and tease from the opposite side of the gulf, the front decided to pay us a visit tonight. 
And into the still sticky afternoon it strolled. So many shades of grey, layer upon layer, all out to consume the piercing blue of our late afternoon sky. Low white tendrils of fluffy cloud reaching ground ward, stirring the red dust and egging it skyward. Luscious layers, a giant cake of cloud spinning and rolling and encasing the sky. The eerie stillness suddenly whipped away as the fresh cold front licked the skin. Trees bent and leaves blew, dust to the eyes, shade sails alive. Birds caught unaware mid flight. Clouds of red dust spinning and spiralling above the town. The light fading fast as the front caught the sun. The rush of the wind, the rumble high above, all eyes up hoping for rain. Then the flashes begun. Sheets, forks and chains, it was all there. Slicing the sky, competing with the fading light. Begging for attention as chains of light linked from horizon to horizon. So bright the stars of the show were imprinted on the eyes.

But after all of this do you think we got rain? About three drops of the bloody stuff. Photo by the talented local behind the lens Scott Thomson.

Posted on February 22, 2017 .