It's rained here for the first time in a couple of years--well, somewhat more recently for Kalbarri itself, but there's some locales on the drive up that hadn't seen anything in about that long.  Dust storms swirled about the car, kicked up by the distant but felt presence of Pancho.  We arrived in Kalbarri in time for rain and winds that bent the palm trees over.   Two days later, the wind is still nasty, but we're planning some flights over Shark Bay and elsewhere, optimistic that things will calm down by the weekend.

I'm writing--working away on The Sunless Countries plus a surprise easter egg that Tor dropped in my lap on friday (hint:  I'm not happy).  Janice and Paige are seeing the sights and just generally kicking back. 

Oh yeah, the spiders.  Haven't seen one quite that big yet, but I'm assured they do exist.  Huge golden orb spiders spin their webs in the evening and drop them down across porch awnings; places you were safe to walk an hour before suddenly have huge webs and bigger-than-thumb-sized spiders that go straight into your face.  That's fine, though; it's the flies that are driving us all crazy.

Australian flies are small, but they're insane.  They attack you in droves the instant you step outside and try to climb into your ears and nose.  Many locals here wear beekeeper hats just to walk down the street (no, I'm not kidding).  I'd be lying if I said you get used to them, but primal instincts come into play quite quickly, and you end up walking around waving your hand reflexively in front of your face.  Nobody notices.

Other than that, it's paradise--about 30 C right now and gorgeous air.

One corner of Rainbow Jungle, where Janice and I were married in 2001.