Lighthouse Cottages, Nobbys Whibayganba
I’d been waiting for dark, threatening skies. Deep purple ribbons followed the horizon, blurred in places by distant oceanic rain. The type of day where you don’t wake up with the sun; the day doesn’t dawn so much as roll around under the cloud-covers. A doona and Tim-Tam kinda day.
Cottage 3, desk 2. I faced eastwards and watched the torrents tearing north. It felt deliciously cubby-like at my desk, my little window struck by needle-like rain as I sat inside, typing, editing, working.
Post-rain the world appeared wet and weathered. New textures emerged in timber, and clear puddle pools reflected buildings as clouds moved dramatically across the sky. The porthole lights came on for the first time, their adorable yellowish faces glowing in the gloom.
I stood at the north wall and watched Port Stephens take a stormy battering, marveled at shafts of sunshine over the harbour, and watched seagulls trail tired fishing boats.