Last month the first signs of Spring were peeping coyly through the remnants of Winter in a mildly flirtatious fashion.. I should have known this understated phase wouldn't last long; there's not much about this place that's half way.
Summer's heat is intense and prolonged; when it finally does cool down the Winter nights are sharply cold; the long, drawn out absence of rain that brought me to tears more than once in the heat of Summer becomes abrupt and torrential downpours in Winter; creating instant backyard floods as the parched ground blocks rather than absorbs. Seemingly overnight, dry, brown, desert-like verges become rampantly green in contrast to the now starkly naked frangipani and other trees that flowered so long and fragrantly last Summer. Another reminder of the difference in the environment I now inhabit from the one I left: I didn't smell freshly cut grass in the air until late Winter.
As I've walked around my neighbourhood lately I have once again been struck by the mystery and wonder of Mother Nature and her casual disregard for man's attempts to tame her. A mild flirtation has turned to wanton, abandoned seduction; the air is full of the scent of freesias growing wild along the roadsides; some of last year's olives are still staining the footpaths as they continue to drop, while other trees are covered with the new season's crop of tiny green morsels. Dave's orange tree which only finished fruiting a few weeks ago is now heavy with blossom which hits me with it's heady scent each time I step out the door.
The human population has been busy too - the road sides are cluttered with junk that no longer serves them. If someone else doesn't claim it as their new treasure, the hard rubbish fairies eventually disappear it. No doubt there is some kind of actual system involving schedules and trucks, but I have come to the conclusion that I prefer my version of things: things magically appear, and equally magically disappear. I do know, however, where one particular discarded light fitting went: it now graces Hobbiton as variously candle holders, vases or dipping bowls. Or all three.
I can tell I've been here nearly a year as the trees are full of the antics of the myriad birds who are currently all jostling for mating rights - including the needy sounding Wattle bird who has returned to sit in the tree outside our bedroom window at 4.30am to make it's plaintive calls. If there was a way to tell it that it's chances of hooking up would be greatly increased if it wasn't hauling its potential mate out of bed way too early to be even remotely sexy, believe me; I'd be doing it!
My beloved is rapidly approaching a new season of his own. Next month he will enter a new decade of his life, which seems timely as he is still riding the upward curve of his exciting new job; he looks forward to discovering what each new work day holds (like Spring, it is usually full of surprises); new growth occurs daily; and he is flourishing.
I am still puzzling over my own future in terms of which direction to take work-wise, but lately have made some wonderful contacts who have been helping me take some positive steps towards realising my own potential in the world of paid activity.
And that is why I love this time of year.. Winter is on the wane, Summer still around the corner, and we are in the full embrace of the sense of optimism and wealth of possibility that the new life and growth of Spring brings. Yay!
More soon x
