A HOT wind blows from the south and brings dense cloud from Africa. We watch it roll in on two levels: white mist flooding valleys and swamping mountains in great waves; and a high bank of greyness blocking out the sun. We hear dull echoes of thunder as the wind gathers strength . . .
Across the valley of the Rio Guadalfeo, the great bulk of Sierra de Lujar is still bathed in sunlight – but the clouds fill the gap and soon the mountain is lost from view.
We watch the storm from the kitchen window – Andalucia rocked by violent weather from another continent. We wait for rain. Then we wait a bit longer.
One spot. Two spots. Big spots, mind. Three spots, four spots. And that’s about it.
There’s a lesson learned. The rain in Spain falls mainly somewhere else.