... She Wrote

One 'BIG Wet'

FIVE prompts: 'plenty' Oct 1, 'time' Oct 8, 'water' Oct 15, 'mystery' Oct 22, 'light' Oct 29, 2021

"Plenty wet, this time, boss," said old Joe, splashing through puddles of water deep enough to come knee high up his bare legs. Flooding was a rare sight in this way-back wheatbelt/bush-borderland country encompassed by the mighty Bullagoing Shire .

'Alright enough' for old Joe. All he had to pick up, or pack up... or just walk away from, if he chose... was his wurly. Mostly, as he'd aged, he'd preferred the modern comforts of one of the bedrooms in the shearers' quarters, complete with wire bed-frame, mattress and pillow. And if the odd, thinning eiderdown happened to be on said bed, he never objected too much to that, either. Long gone were the days when he had built his shelter in the shortest time imaginable, from the nearest gum tree branches he could reach to break off and build a rudimentary 'tent'. At this stage of his life, he reckoned too many of those 'bitsa' homes had either blown away, or like the current storm, washed away in a current that left nothing but great rivulets streaking the otherwise 'smooth as a billiard ball' terrain.

The 'mystery' of a summer storm following right on the heels of the driest winter on record, didn't faze old Joe at all. Not like us white fellas who worked for the self-same boss. For us, the unseasonal storm dumping five inches of rain on an area that normally only received thirteen inches in a whole year, would have been an unparallelled disaster at ANY time of the year. The land, animals, and even us—were totally unprepared to cope with a deluge of that level.

But where were we as this fateful deluge swamped our workplace? Three hours drive away in the city of Perth. Western Australia. And what were we doing there? Having our first weekend off in four months, and NOW, having just finished the major job of slinging of our bags into our bedroom, we were readying ourselves to sit down to the BIG glasses of wine poured and waiting for us along with the eager audience of our best friends. Stories of our life in the bush always worked up the BEST of thirsts... the type that could continue all long weekend, with no strain at all. Not surprisingly, when hubby needed to reach for the proffered phone instead of his glass, and heard the news and the 'orders' to come back straight away, the light at the end of our personal tunnel was extinguished as surely as if it too, had been beneath the deluge.

When we heard of extensive damage, fences dragged down and broken everywhere, and countless full-wool sheep waterlogged and stranded in paddocks, all decisions were made for us. Our belongings were unceremoniously thrown back into the car and we were on our way.

Our travellers' exhaustion had little match what we would experience over the next few days—and nights—as we dealt with old Joe's 'plenty wet'. He surely got that one right.

Author's Note:

I may have been AWOL for too long (sought here, sought there... on land, sea and air), but I AM still hanging around, and to make up, I have covered ALL five (5) of the errant prompt words! And under 500 words, too. Now seriously, OWZAT??

We won't mention a fresh one due already, today!!! Grrr...