Six years of drought: the dam dry as a bone for the last 18 months, cracks appear in the ground, hot winds have stripped the topsoil, dry heat has descended on the land.

From the tropical north clouds billow over the horizon in slow motion. This time you can feel a change in the air. Then, quite simply, rain begins to fall. The earth releases its wonderful grassy smell. Wind increases, raindrops are as large as ten cent coins, and then driving hail thrashes roofs, trees and shrubs.

The noise is deafening, the wind increases and rain is slanting nearly horizontally. Hail, driven by the screaming wind, is forced under the ridge capping of the farm shed and falls in white pellets on the machinery and floor. Torrents of water slide down shallow gullies and swirl around the house.

Then it’s all over, the wind stops, rain and hail subside as the storm drifts off to the east. Water runs off the land and gurgles in the overflow pipes of the tanks. The dam, empty one hour ago, is now nearly full.

Peace returns to the property and we look at each other, grinning.

However, I enjoy a sparkling red around Christmas time and Lambrusco is ideally suited for a lighthearted festive grog.

It is probably good that Christmas comes only once a year though.!!

The Latin reference to the moon appearing on the label is a bit of a worry.

This wine, to sell, has to be described as being “alive, zesty, tangy, fresh and light, yet with great intensity of classic regional herbal and green melon fruit flavours” (recent newspaper description).   For goodness sake, how can anyone own up to recognising all those subtle and not so subtle flavour variations?

Dreadful people run around, noses stuck in Riedels espousing the wonders of this grape.

Wake up, smell the roses and enjoy a cold Clare, Barossa or Eden Valley Riesling that’s not trendy, just beautiful.