the signs of the dry

The dry season is near. We are on the cusp of cooler days, infused with the smell of burn offs and months of festivals. The harbingers of the changing of the seasons are everywhere.

Dragonflies orbit. The rain stops. Deckchair Cinema reopens. Mindil Beach market owners set up their stalls. Long-socked grey nomads are spotted hiking the periphery of the city. Work has become outrageously hectic.

Waiting for the bus, I sat across from an man at the bus stop who lives in the community across the road. He told me the 'knock-em-down rains' were still to come. That's when the long dry grass is flattened by heavy rain. It's a season in itself. But the dry is near.

The sunsets remain the same.