Perhaps it’s easy to love winter when you live in this part of the world. After all, the skies are often blue and, although some trees are leafless, there are plenty of wild flowers to make up for that. So the landscape is rarely drab, rarely grey.
There’s the bright yellow of the Cape Sorrel flowers; the grass is green; and oranges hang heavily on boughs of citrus trees like incandescent orbs. It never feels like Nature is taking a long sleep; just that she is waiting, in anticipation of spring, ready to work her magic at any minute.
Yes, the occasional storm does pass us by, and the heavens will pour down rain or hail; the sea is whipped into a frenzy and the clouds skedaddle across the sky.
There is uninhibited power in the raging waves. And the colours … oh the colours – how they change and blend, from deep blues to indigo to teal and sea-foam green … I would need to be an artist to be able to name them all.
But the storms don’t last for very long. I wish that they would sometimes. After all, there’s something cozy about winter. Something very heart-warming about wearing fleece pyjamas and watching re-runs of old movies with a mug of steaming cocoa.
Really cold days seems to be very rare though. Maybe my memory is getting hazy, but it always seems like winters were colder when I was growing up and the wind always seemed to be howling. Or maybe as children we only remember the extremes.
The flu has held me hostage for over a week. My fever has broken but my body still feels battered and listless. I was feeling grey and drab. But today, I am finally feeling human again. Colour is back in my life again – the vibrant colours of our too-short winters.
Photos from my archives
Location: Chadwick Lakes, Golden Bay, Dingli Cliffs