Because we flew kites instead.

It’s been a very mild winter. We’ve only had a few frosts so far (in an area where low temperatures are required to ‘set’ fruit buds for the summer crops), and despite my telling the kids that the cold strengthens as the days lengthen, it hasn’t happened yet. We’re apparently in for some snowy weather over the coming days, but on the whole things have seemed freakishly warm. I haven’t looked at the data for June yet, but according to the NOAA May was the 351st consecutive month with a global temperature above the 20th century average.

Meanwhile: Australian senators are kicking up a fuss about whether the ‘savings’ resulting from repealing the Carbon Tax will be passed back to consumers; funding to scientific bodies in Australia has been heavily cut; modelling suggests Antarctic ice may melt far faster than previously expected. The good news just keeps rolling in.

But in considering humanity’s apparent inability to avert a disaster of which it is already aware, I have to acknowledge a micro-model of that same absurdity in my own personal sphere. At a time when I’m thinking it’d be very wise to start looking at the world with more of a survivalist bent and make preparations for being able to eek out a more subsistence-like existence, should it come to that, I watch extreme weather events on the news and find myself getting a little bit uneasy with each gust of wind – how much time have we really got?  But not so uneasy that we can’t spare the time to harness that wind to fly a kite. And then write a blog post about it.

“Why didn’t we do more to prepare, Dad?”