Story telling from Australia
It’s autumn here in Sydney, winter is only a month away and our small back yard is pretending it’s still summer. The leaves on the frangipani hold resolute, fat lemons are ripening and even the fig tree has put on more fruit.
The plants are playing tricks, and I’m happy to play along.
I’m happy to sit quietly in the sunshine, breathing in the soft light, enveloped in this unexpected world of calm. I watch as the light shifts against the sandstone, catching the last flower on the blue ginger, bright against the orange clivia that two weeks ago threw out a final bloom.
It’s an illusion, I know, nothing more than a pause before the last out breath, when the trees realise there is no further need to hold on and they willingly let go of their leaves.
I know winter can’t be kept at bay. That knowledge makes me drink in the beauty of today.