Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The Last Days Of Summer

 The tragedy of a sore finger, requiring acknowledgement and sympathy (its all we really want). Zef (the elkhound)  is raiding the summer garden harvest, the little Bowerbird has rescued at tomato from his chew pile and is not impressed, she is quite the disciplinarian.


It has been a long thirsty summer in the Macedon Ranges, a summer so dry I've not been able to fully relax and enjoy, for fear of fire. A summer of constantly listening to the ABC radio, checking the Bureau of Meteorology website, and scanning through CFA alerts. Knowledge is a powerful thing, but ignorance can be bliss. I remember the days before Black Saturday, when I was not so hyper-aware of how dangerous it can be to live amongst the gum trees. A time before phone apps that highlight every single time a fire truck is called out, I assure you the sirens were blaring this summer.

I am overjoyed to see the tell tale signs of Autumn approaching.  We had a day we could don a jumper, and finally we have rain. Long heavy falls of rain to soak the earth and bring it back to life, rain that looks red on the radar.   Rain to lull me into a peaceful slumber, rain that makes me want to lie in bed all day drinking tea and reading books. Rain that smells sweet and alive. Little seedlings are emerging with the combination of heat and moisture, cornflower cotyledons are popping up amongst the straw mulch, peas are rejoicing and sending tendrils in all directions. Naked ladies (the bulbs not floozies) push their way through thick layers of newspaper and straw, determined to dance in the downpour.

The first Autumn leaves are blushing on our Sycamore tree, I have seen many deciduous trees changing colour early this year, I think they had had enough of summer, and decided to shut down until better conditions arrive.  Never have so many of our trees looked burnt and stressed, but after a few days of moisture they seem to lift a little, the parch dry lawn almost instantly turned green. My children were soaked to the bone on their journey home today and didn't mind a bit, it was such a novelty to be wet. Nothing a towel and a hot chocolate couldn't fix.

There will be more warm dry days to come, in fact the next week's forecast is full of them, but the relief in our town is palpable, there are smiles as we sigh, and be grateful that it wasn't our town in the news this summer. There are so many towns across Australia undergoing hardship, it has been a year of extremes, thankyou to all the good people that helped keep us safe, and big thankyou to lady luck. I fear with climate change, that this is how summers will always be in our neck of the woods, still beautiful but somewhat stained with worry.
 I bought two new umbrellas today, a garden of poppies for me, and a clear dome for the little Bowerbird, in excitement and preparation for the days to come.

 These old umbrellas didn't do much to keep the poor school aged Bowerbirds dry today, but it was an almighty torrent they got caught in.


  1. Thanks for your lovely comments on my space xx
    I am actually ready for Autumn, as blissful as the summer days are. Bitter

  2. So glad to have some rain too. Such a relief to have a few days off from watering the garden!

  3. It was an almighty torrent, wasn't it! So nice to see the plants facing upwards once again, receptive to more showers. Where did you get those cute brollies? They look very smart! :)

    1. Closing down sale in the main street, they are lovely, I've never bought myself a flash new umbrella, I will feel very smart. Wondering if you found those vintage sheets, they were so pretty.

  4. Glad that it won't be very dry there no more as the weather cools down.


In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
Margaret Atwood

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead.”
― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young