I had already documented the unbelievable Melbourne heat during the Australian Open but after today, I needed to write an addendum. The title of this entry is a borrowed and slightly altered line from one of my favourite poems by William Wordsworth. It, and the sentiment in the poem, seemed appropriate.
So we were again a part of history in Melbourne today as the mercury topped out at 46.4 Celsius. It could not have been more gross and everywhere we looked and listened Melburnians were hunkering down for the worst. Premier Brumby was on record calling it the "worst day in our history".
The day started out innocently enough with people out and about and carrying on around 8:00 am. Joggers were jogging, dogs were walking their owners, and dutiful dads were strolling their newborns down the street while mom got a few more winks. I was also up and at'tem, watering our front and back gardens in the hope that I might prevent anymore carnage. Both gardens are on their way to becoming stand-ins for the Gobi desert. Without rain "tank water" the water restrictions are such that it is virtually impossible to keep a garden green or even brown. But, like the dutiful tenant that I am, I was doing my best. The plants seemed happy to see me.
Two hours later the streets were abandoned. By 10:30 the wickedly warm northwinds had picked up and things began to get more than a little toasty. The wind is so bizarre in its strength - in terms of both velocity and warmth. At home, a hot day usually involves very little wind as you bake in the calmness and crave a nice breeze. Here the wind is very strong but the gusts seem hotter than the actual sun. It's like trying to breathe in a convection oven on broil. Soon we were turning out the lights and I was stringing up a sheet over our back doors to try to keep direct sunlight out. With power outages a real certainty we began filling water bottles and thinking about contingency plans, food, and flashlights. It was going to be a day of reading, computer games, videos and lots and lots of Lego! It would also be clothing optional.
Courageously Linton and Colin traipsed down to the local tennis courts (fully clothed!) for the start of his lessons only to be informed by a small sign and the gathering dust storms that tennis would resume on a cooler day. Once they were back in our little bunker, we cranked up the fans and watched the temperature climb. Another incredible part of this Melbourne heat is just how fast it can change, for better or worse. At noon it was 34 and by three it was 46! And the weather office had it all down to the hour. Remarkably, as a result of a mysterious 120 degree change in wind direction, the temperature had dropped again to 30 by 6:00pm and without a massive thunderstorm to clear the way. This blast was intense but thankfully brief.
If this whole year is a test of the family compact in terms of exposure, then a hot day in a tiny house only serves to increase that potentially strained dynamic. I thought we all did remarkably well. The kitchen was practically off limits due to the heat so we made do with fruit and cold cuts. We read and watched movies, played a few games, had a cold shower or two and simply tried to avoid any unnecessary movement. There were moments of frustration and restless boredom but when we did happen to poke our heads out the door, the inferno racing down our street made indoors seem like paradise. It was simply one of those moments where you knew that your fate and the weather was beyond your control and to resist or pretend otherwise was futile - and sweat inducing! Outdoors was just not an option. As Linton remarked, you know it's hot when it's too hot to go the pool.
As I write, it's a relatively pleasant 30 and going down, with a prediction of 19 overnight and 25 tomorrow. On Sunday, I am sure, it will seem like it never happened. Fortunately, living in the middle of the city, we have been spared the power outages, highway closures, brush fires etc. that much of the state has been plagued with. But record setting heat like we experienced today, just like bare ski hills might at home, suggest to me that there must be something to this global warming thing. And so, as Wordsworth wrote (and I am paraphrasing) in the same poem I quoted above, I hope that we haven't spent too much time "Getting and spending, and [laying] waste our powers" so that more of us might again be "moved" to see not "little" but all "in Nature that is ours". This kind of heat is simply unnatural!
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