The weather gods partied hard. Blowing ferociously, they lashed us with rain and pelted us with nuggets of ice.

Small but noisy, the hail stopped us in our tracks as it clattered on the roof, bounced off windows and pinged in gutters, dressing the front deck in white. As the wind bent trees to their limit, the mini blizzard wrapped the world in a haze of white.

I thought of friends who live on a hill and wondered if they still had their roof.

In moments it was over, leaving the world strangely still, scented by bruised eucalyptus leaves. An eerie light washed pinkly over an early dusk. Cleared by wind, the low sun painted clouds gold while, to the south, darkness advanced.

My breath fogged in the cold air as I surveyed the garden, checking for casualties. Close to the house only a few small branches, leaves and strips of bark littered the ground. The tied-up tree was still standing, as were the trees it was tied to. Glowing eerily white, patches of hail lay in pockets.

I walked down the driveway to the sound of trickling water and traced it to the garden tank. It had filled from the house tank’s excess and had itself overflowed. Water rushed downhill, pooling in the clay pan beside the big shed.

I found a bucket and jammed it beneath the waterfall. It quickly filled. I replaced it with a second and a third. Thankfully, the flow stopped at the fourth.

I left the bucket there for whatever the gods have in mind for today.