One of my rare but blissful luxuries once was to escape to the tropics at this time of the year.
Our home, like most others, always had a fire of some kind that took the worst chill off the air in one room only, even though the house was like an icebox. Shops and cars were not heated. It was a privilege as a senior, in my last year at school, to sleep on an open air balcony. It was winter: it was cold. I huddled miserably through an endless, interminable winter.
Term 2 finished around August 20th. What absolute delight to go somewhere hot and lush. Two weeks later, on returning, Spring had arrived.
I haven't had the heater on here for days....(15C is quite warm enough for me, of course).
As I walked past a neglected corner of the garden, I suddenly realised that the 2 or 3 metre high pittosporum had disappeared. Where had it gone?
Jasmine is a merry, romping little boa constrictor. It covered the pittosporum like a dust cover. It was covered with its pretty white and cerise flower buds: a week later and I would have been fighting the bees as well as the tendrils.
Abutilon is also a thug: it's lanterns are blooming, so its execution has been stayed. Ditto periwinkle, that push-me-pull-you that roots itself at both ends. I enjoy its delightful blue blossoms for a few weeks, and spend the rest of the year pulling it out. Thanks for the offer, Mr Monsanto, but I decline your help.
Looks like Spring. Confession: I still haven't raked up all the autumn leaves.