It was 109F in the shade, and almost everyone in Whaylla was panting at the beach. It was Christmas Day - not quite hot enough to be a "White Hot Christmas" but bloody hot. The steel works were just up the road, and I scarce could imagine that the breath of the blast furnaces could be as hot. It seemed cooler in the car with the windows up than it was to drive along with the windows open - and that was before there were air conditioners in cars!
As we drove out of Whyalla, we noticed that much of the housing was repeadtedly the same - little boxes that were "all made off ticky tacky and they all looked just the same" - you know, company or government housing. We drove out never to return - and though I know this kind of day happens from time to time, it is not the majority of days even in summer, but as a youngster I had been traumatised, dehydrated, and driven from hell.
Molten Summer does happen in southern Australia, when the North-westerly disturbs the dust and the sparrows are under the eaves and everyone fears a bushfire. Australia is a wonderful land, but it has its dread.
Very fine image in both words and picture. Thank you for sharing.
I am very pleased that it has struck a chord with you, Marilyn.
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Photo taken in Whyalla SA, Australia
Misplaced? Suggest new location