๐ง๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐ก๐ง ๐ช๐๐ฅ๐ก๐๐ก๐๐ฆ ๐ข๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ก๐ ๐ช๐ข๐ฅ๐๐
The first whisper of change did not come from the sky, nor from the forecasts, but from the sea.
Long before the storm clouds gathered, Arielle herself felt it. Her hull, usually sleek and clean, wore a cloak of weed in a very short time โ a telling sign that the sea was warmer than she ought to be.
This subtle change in temperature, invisible to the eye but undeniable to those who know how to read the sea, hinted at something much larger at play. Warmer waters feed the engines of storms. When the ocean heats, the atmosphere listens. And what starts as a breath over tropical waters grows into something more โ a swirling force of wind, rain, and wild energy we call a cyclone.
That weed was natureโs early messenger, long before the cycloneโs name appeared on the news.
And yes โ to meet a cyclone in New Zealandโs skies in mid-April is no ordinary encounter. Our seasons no longer wear the same familiar patterns. The climate is shifting, the balance tipping, and the fingerprints of global warming lie upon each stormโs increasing strength.
Yet storms are not new. They are part of Earthโs grand design โ part of the dance between ocean and sky, nourishing the land, refreshing the earth, restoring life.
What is new, what is unnatural, is the damage.
For it is not the forests, nor the wild hills, nor the deep roots of ancient trees that suffer. Out here in the native bush, the great forest elders merely sway to the rhythm of the storm, their roots grounded, their canopies singing in the wind. They embrace the deluge, drinking in the gift of rain, standing tall long after the skies clear.
It is the human-made โ the square, the rigid, the unyielding โ that breaks.
Storms reveal not just natureโs power, but the brittle nature of our built environments and the illusion of permanence weโve wrapped around our lives.
And so as the winds rise and the rains fall, I sit with natureโs symphony โ not in fear, but in deep, abiding awe. For this is Earth, alive and speaking. Her voice is growing louder, and it is time we learn, once again, how to listen.
Master Boon ๐๐
Images
- Listening to Natureโs Symphony.mp4 Awaiting the storm
- At the height of the storm, couldnโt see much at all.
At times, the air was utterly still โ then, without warning, a sudden whiplash of gale-force winds would tear through. But from the comfort of our lounge, it remained mostly calm.
Quite a different story at the top of the property, where powerful, raging winds sent the plastic sheets in the orchard lifting off like aerofoils. Several times in the storm we had to reset them, pin and weigh them down, as it was taking off creating hazard on the access road and for fear of it ending up on the neighboursโ properties. - Now, as the storm calms, but not quite letting upโฆ
