I have noticed before that our Wet seasons can end with a farewell deluge. If what we’re getting now – 200 mm and more in a day or two – is this year’s example, it’s a bit late.
John Anderson, veteran rural reporter for our local paper, reckons that if we haven’t had rain before Anzac Day, we’re not getting any. My own rule of thumb was that Easter marked the end of the Wet season, and I suspected that it might be tied somehow to the lunar and solar calendars. Easter, after all, falls just after the first full moon after the Equinox (more detail here).
Either way, this rain is later and and heavier than we would expect. It follows the drenching that Gympie, Brisbane and Northern NSW copped earlier this year. Both events are entirely in line with what we’ve been told – repeatedly – to expect from climate change, although we can’t say that they were “caused by” climate change (for a look at the difficulties in event attribution, try this video).
Our climate has already changed and further changes are unavoidable. None of them are for the better.
Climate action now is imperative, which is why I have neglected Green Path for nearly a month in favour of political action. Normal service will not resume until after the election but I will try to maintain some continuity here on the blog until then.
Townsville’s winter is, as I’ve said before, so full of events that we hardly have time to take them all in. We were still recovering from Strand Ephemera, NAFA and the Fringe when PUNQ (Pop-Up North Queensland, co-ordinated by Umbrella Studio) opened a week ago.
There was a lot to see, as a look at their online program reveals. We didn’t get to all of it but did enjoy Golden Bee’s Hive Alive, the quirky Botanica-Techno installation in the Perfumed Gardens, and (getting to the point of the post) Alison McDonald’s site-specific After, a clever, powerful depiction of Ross River as a trail of, essentially, reclaimed debris.
Spring here in Townsville is so different from Spring in temperate climates that the word sets up all sorts of wrong expectations. Coming out of a cold winter and enjoying the first sunshine for months? Fruit trees bursting into blossom? Sudden wild storms? Everything green and growing? None of the above.
The word needs scare quotes here, or some other warning that it’s nothing like an English Spring, or even a Victorian Spring. I’m going to put it in square brackets: Spring is what Tolkien would recognise, [Spring] is what we get.
We’re well into our Dry season, having had less than 5 mm of rain in the ten weeks since mid-July, and everything is parched and dusty. Many of our native trees drop some or all of their leaves to conserve energy, although some of them (Bat-wing Coral Tree, for instance) do also flower around this time. Exotics like Tabebuia and Poinciana follow the same pattern, so there are always bright spots in our streets and gardens.
My very first impression of Townsville’s landscape, thirty years ago, was of dead-flat land interrupted by peculiarly isolated hills and ranges, and it has only been reinforced over the years by views and events.
The views? Getting to know the topography from the top of Castle Hill, Mt Stuart or (most recently) Mt Marlow on the Town Common reveals a coastal landscape of mangrove flats rising (minimally) to the suburbs which wrap around the bases of the hills, with Ross River, Ross Creek and the Bohle River winding lazily through them.
A visit to Kelso on Saturday gave me a chance to see Ross Dam, nearly full again after dropping steadily from this time last year until the last week of January. The sign said it was at 85% but the number doesn’t have the same emotional impact as the view from the dam wall.
It’s raining as I write, and the BOM is forecasting more rain in coming days – up to and including a possible cyclone – so it’s quite likely the dam will fill before the Wet season ends in about a month.
What we’ve had so far this year, according to the BoM, is about 600 mm since the last week of January.
What we would like, of course, is just enough rain, nicely spread out through the month. What we will get is, as always, unpredictable.