It's summer - or so I've been led to believe...
There’s something rather wrong about our weather at the moment. It’s mid-January. So far this summer the temperature has gone over 30° only once or twice (at least on the coast, where I am), and then only for a couple of hours before dropping right back down again. Most days it struggles to go above 25°, most usually it’s sitting around the 22° mark. (At least it doesn’t topple down too far at night.) This is not the ‘normal’ Sydney summer. This is not summer at all. Not all this rain. (There has been so much rain!) Not still having the duvet on. Not needing to carry a jacket with me everywhere I go and, worse, needing to actually wear it most of the time.
You know something’s wrong when Melbourne is having a much summer-ier summer than Sydney is. Back in the good old days Melbourne was a by-word for cold and damp. It appears we have swapped places in the night.
And I don’t want to talk about Perth.
There’s something rather desperate about our weather at the moment. Or, at least, the way the media is reporting/advertising it. They may want to use the words ‘sizzling’, ‘scorching’ and ‘fiery’, but one look out of the window quickly debunks that! I’ve lost track of the times I’ve seen headlines predicting that temperatures are ‘set to soar’, and that ‘’summer is heating up at last’. The correct phrase actually is ‘this warm weather is a flash in the pan’. We might have a warm, sunny day, getting everyone’s hopes up, but the clouds soon roll in, the rain falls down and so does the temperature.
The media is imploding on the paradox - on the one hand they’re in a frenzy reporting on the chill conditions, and dredging up all the records imaginable that we are/are not reaching...and on the other they’re painting pictures of the perfect attire to wear beachside or to our holiday BBQs (they don’t mention the thick cardigan you’d need to wear some of these things so you won’t shiver), and by filling copy with recipes for our ‘hot Aussie summer’.
Last night I picked up a free cookbook from the supermarket which was headlining ‘freezer treats for those scorching summer days’. (‘Nice and icy desserts - cool down with fruity frozen treats’). Yum. But I might wait for next summer so that I’m not shivering too much while I eat them.
There’s something rather disappointing about our weather at the momentt. We scan the forecasts hopefully, waiting for some sign that the weather will live up to expectations. Not just ours, but those of all the tourists who have travelled so far only to find they haven’t escaped winter after all.
We’re still waiting to do all those summer things: walks in the early evening when the sun has just gone down, the heat of the day begins to recede and the scent of the flowers hangs heavy on the air; BBQs and picnics and fish and chips and ice-creams at the beach; Opera/Concerts in the Domain (for the Sydney Festival); even just sitting on the balcony and reading - too cold, too windy, and too damn wet. We still try to do them, but somehow the atmosphere isn’t quite the same when you’re clutching an umbrella, or ducking for shelter.
Go swimming? There’s no way I’d even dream about it. J has been a couple of times, but I think that was more ‘sitting on the beach’ rather than ‘actually getting wet’. Unless it was from the rain.
There’s something rather depressing about our weather at the moment. It feels like, oh, deciding to just miss Christmas one year: let’s skip summer, go from winter straight back to winter, no-one will really notice. On the drive up to Mum’s today I saw that one of the liquid amber trees is showing unmistakeable signs of changing colour. I have only heard the cicadas signing once - and then it seemed to be one greatly daring individual who suddenly hushed with a squeak, as if someone sat on him.
There’s something rather awe-inspiring about our weather at the moment. It may be cold, it may be wet, but we’ve also had some amazing thunderstorms. Last weekend J and I just made it home one night before a massive storm broke, which circled around our heads for hours. I have not seen lighting that bright for many years. We turned off the lights and sat and watched - it was, literally, electrifying.
There’s something rather interesting about our weather at the moment, even if it is just that it gives us a reason to keep talking about the weather. Talking about the weather is an inescapable part of our national psyche. Where would we be without it?
You know something’s wrong when Melbourne is having a much summer-ier summer than Sydney is. Back in the good old days Melbourne was a by-word for cold and damp. It appears we have swapped places in the night.
And I don’t want to talk about Perth.
There’s something rather desperate about our weather at the moment. Or, at least, the way the media is reporting/advertising it. They may want to use the words ‘sizzling’, ‘scorching’ and ‘fiery’, but one look out of the window quickly debunks that! I’ve lost track of the times I’ve seen headlines predicting that temperatures are ‘set to soar’, and that ‘’summer is heating up at last’. The correct phrase actually is ‘this warm weather is a flash in the pan’. We might have a warm, sunny day, getting everyone’s hopes up, but the clouds soon roll in, the rain falls down and so does the temperature.
The media is imploding on the paradox - on the one hand they’re in a frenzy reporting on the chill conditions, and dredging up all the records imaginable that we are/are not reaching...and on the other they’re painting pictures of the perfect attire to wear beachside or to our holiday BBQs (they don’t mention the thick cardigan you’d need to wear some of these things so you won’t shiver), and by filling copy with recipes for our ‘hot Aussie summer’.
Last night I picked up a free cookbook from the supermarket which was headlining ‘freezer treats for those scorching summer days’. (‘Nice and icy desserts - cool down with fruity frozen treats’). Yum. But I might wait for next summer so that I’m not shivering too much while I eat them.
There’s something rather disappointing about our weather at the momentt. We scan the forecasts hopefully, waiting for some sign that the weather will live up to expectations. Not just ours, but those of all the tourists who have travelled so far only to find they haven’t escaped winter after all.
We’re still waiting to do all those summer things: walks in the early evening when the sun has just gone down, the heat of the day begins to recede and the scent of the flowers hangs heavy on the air; BBQs and picnics and fish and chips and ice-creams at the beach; Opera/Concerts in the Domain (for the Sydney Festival); even just sitting on the balcony and reading - too cold, too windy, and too damn wet. We still try to do them, but somehow the atmosphere isn’t quite the same when you’re clutching an umbrella, or ducking for shelter.
Go swimming? There’s no way I’d even dream about it. J has been a couple of times, but I think that was more ‘sitting on the beach’ rather than ‘actually getting wet’. Unless it was from the rain.
There’s something rather depressing about our weather at the moment. It feels like, oh, deciding to just miss Christmas one year: let’s skip summer, go from winter straight back to winter, no-one will really notice. On the drive up to Mum’s today I saw that one of the liquid amber trees is showing unmistakeable signs of changing colour. I have only heard the cicadas signing once - and then it seemed to be one greatly daring individual who suddenly hushed with a squeak, as if someone sat on him.
There’s something rather awe-inspiring about our weather at the moment. It may be cold, it may be wet, but we’ve also had some amazing thunderstorms. Last weekend J and I just made it home one night before a massive storm broke, which circled around our heads for hours. I have not seen lighting that bright for many years. We turned off the lights and sat and watched - it was, literally, electrifying.
There’s something rather interesting about our weather at the moment, even if it is just that it gives us a reason to keep talking about the weather. Talking about the weather is an inescapable part of our national psyche. Where would we be without it?