Springing into Fall... Reluctantly

I am wearing a jumper (the Australian term for sweatshirt… not a suicidal person on a tall building) and Curtis’ plaid pajama pants as I write.

Why? Because it’s cold. In Australia.

As in 13 °C (55 °F) cold. In Australia.

I don’t know why, but I sort of thought that maybe, since we’d come ALL the way from the other side of the planet, this whole “winter” thing might re-evaluate it’s desire to inhabit Southern Australia in the coming months. You know, out of kindness.

I thought we were pals, Old Man Winter and me. But since we’re already halfway through fall, I’m going to guess he didn’t get my memo.

Some of the leaves have begun turning that beautiful blood red.

And many others have already leaped from the now-bare branches to which they used to cling so desperately.

Crunch, crinkle, crunch.

But do you know what is weird? That I keep posting questions and then answering them, making my English teacher turn in her proverbial grave? Yes, but also, at the same time that the signs of fall are floating their way throughout the city of Melbourne, flowers are fighting the chilly air to bloom… everywhere!

Even the rosemary is budding.

Fall and Spring seem to be intertwined, weaving and dancing together to welcome winter.

But I’m not prepared to bid farewell to my bikini. I’m not ready to say goodbye to short skirts and thongs (the Aussie term for flip flops… not g-strings – last time I checked, those were an all-seasons underthing).

But, try as I might to will away winter, the brisk weather (which is really quite mild compared to the arctic atmosphere of Montreal in February, so I should probably quit complaining) is right on the horizon.

In other time-moving-forward-without-my-permission-related news, my little sister turns 20 in one week! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? Because last time I looked she was this big:

ts...