The Magical Everlasting Australian Summer

Fall started on March 1st in Australia – no messing around with that solstice business here. I’m re-training myself to talk about the seasons according to the Southern hemisphere, but the truth is, July will always represent summer, and December is winter. Period.

But autumn and spring, I have an easier time flip-flopping. Autumn in Australia is typically a gradual tapering into winter. It might cool off a little, bringing temperatures from the 80s into the 70s before settling into the 60s. Rainy days become more frequent, warning you that colder nights are just around the corner.

However, it appears that Australia has rolled out the welcome mat for us and kept the sun turned on. As I read about fluctuating temperatures in the American Midwest, I am stunned by day after day of seemingly eternal sunshine in New South Wales. The forecast predicts rain, but then BAM! Renegade sunshine appears instead.

Even though today it was supposed to be sunny and it started off rainy. But the sun’s out now, so whatever.

So I am able to do things like go to the beach. Walk around outside. Surf. Run.

My long pants have taken up residence in a corner of the closet and I wear shorts much more than I expected. The freckles on my face have multiplied, even though I wear sunscreen every day.

I swear.

Well, most days. It’s in my face lotion.

Jared pulled a skim board out of his parents’ shed. It came free with a case of beer and had never been used. We picked up Jared’s mate Chris and went to try it out.

There was a kid there, about 13, who made it look easy.

It wasn’t.

I tried a handful of times, but my heart wasn’t in it. Mainly because I didn’t want to get my hair wet and I’d just discovered the shutter feature on my camera which made being a bystander much more fun. I now have the material for multiple flip books in a series titled Skimboarding: Epic Fails.

They got there in the end, pretty much.

Then the kid skimmed by, blindfolded and on one leg while juggling, bringing an air of humility to our group of three and reminding us that there’s always room for improvement.

Soon, chill will creep into the air. The nights will get longer. I’ll start shuffling around the house, wearing a blanket like a cape. But those days aren’t here yet. Not quite.

In the Midwest, we’d call this an Indian summer. You can call it an endless summer. Call it a fluke. Call it luck. (Please don’t call it global warming because that makes me feel bad and I’m in denial)

Whatever it is, I’ll take it.