Storms are a fairly common occurrence during summer in the mountains. This summer has been notable for series of days of above average temperatures, pressure and temperatures building until a storm breaks.

The weather forecast included a reference to the chance of an afternoon storm. Early on in the day this seemed optimistic at best – bright blue skies with the odd white cloud. But the heat continued to spiral and the air took on the stinging quality of a hot day.

Low rumbles on the horizon provided the briefest of warnings as birds started to screech and scurry off to more protected locations. Then the storm hit with ferocity – heavy rain that beat with gusto upon the roof, the tin reverberating with the intensity of the drops. Faster and louder, still the rain bucketed down. The gutters poured litres into the rainwater tank until it too overflowed with the heavy influx.

A brief reprieve then it was back, a brittle edge to the rain now. Not quite hail but it was a close call. Thunder continued to rumble around in a panoramic fashion. A spike of lightning offered the briefest warning before the whole house shook with the growl of noise.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Trees heavy with moist leaves held still until the next gust of wind released some of the rain in a torrent of drops. The sky still grey and glowering, as if undecided as to whether it was quite done yet. The clouds seemed to drift off as quickly as they had gathered.

The noise of the storm was replaced by the screeching of scores of black cockatoos, wheeling across the sky as they headed for a few tall gum trees. I watched as they flew along, shouting as if to scold the sky, before they settled atop several trees. More calling out and chiacking as they fluffed out feathers, momentarily looking like large feathered fruit before taking to the wing again.

What are summer storms like in your part of the world?

[Photo: yellow-tailed black cockatoos perched high in a gum tree after a storm]