After a record wet winter followed by a fleeting Spring, it hasn’t rained here in a long time.
In fact, despite several attempts at emulating the Sioux rain dance ritual shown in the remarkable footage (bear with it, not all stills) below, we have had little success – other than the 2.5mm of rain we got after our fourth performance a week ago, there’s been nothing in the gauge for a few weeks now.
Perhaps the problem lies in our execution. Since the materials used by the Sioux are not all readily available here in Australia, we have been forced to improvise with picnic blankets, turquoise hayband, the feathers of wedge-tail eagles, dyed hessian sacks and rubber boots adorned with eucalyptus leaves and shells.
We are getting desperate and it shows.
Drawing upon my husband’s Scandinavian heritage, I am building a stone amphitheatre to honour Thor with a special sacrifice: a washing basket full of damp linen. With a toddler in the midst of toilet training and the truly spectacular laundry that makes our dairy-farming family infamous, you’ll understand the meaning of such an offering.
I know I must show total faith in Thor’s generosity but any tips would be gratefully received.