The light is changing, the harshness of the summer sun is softening into a subdued glow. The shadows of the trees are growing and they are now extending over the lawn, creating pockets of dappled sunlight in the garden. In the afternoons, the southerly breeze carriers a hint of the coolness that was whipped up fresh from the Southern Ocean. It provides a welcome relief to the still hot day and signals summer is ending and autumn is closing in.
This move from summer to autumn in Australia is deceiving. It’s not sudden. A handful of cooler days will fool you because they will be followed by a blast of heat again. This temperature dance can ensue for over a month. It’s only the changing light that signals the heat is dipping into a six month slumber. And sometimes in the heat the light is all that gives hope that summer isn’t endless. It is time to buy winter pyjamas for the kids Easter basket, to pull out the cardigans and jumpers and slide into slippers for the early mornings.
I’m ready for this change. Autumn is my favourite season. Of course, by the end of winter I look forward to the arrival of summer. The anticipation of a classic hot Christmas followed by a baking January of swimming, ice cream and meandering late evenings. However when February rolls around and the thermometer climbs even higher, all of us are done. The joy of summer with its adventure and hectic social schedule becomes muddied with the all over body sweat and an inability to get comfortable in the evenings without the running of the air conditioner. There is hope in this light.
Isn’t it lovely how we enter, bask and move on through each season. When the next season comes up, we are ready. The roughly 3 months of each season seems just the right amount of time. How amazing is this world that was crafted for us. The seasons, each with their own gifts and lasting long enough to enjoy, but not overstaying their welcome. And they weave in their pattern to form the cycle of the year. The rhythms of this world. There are no rhythms in randomness. No order in chaos. Seasons are designed, planned and with purpose. They point to the Creator and should cause us to pause in awe at his works.
It’s dark when I wake up now. I roll over and pull up the blanket. Another five minutes. The slippers are at the end of the bed and I’m up when the morning call of the Kookaburra comes through. The house is quiet as everyone else seems to have received the memo about staying in and I’m making coffee with the harsh light of the kitchen hurting my eyes. But it’s joyful because this is what I’ve been waiting all summer for.
Elissa Johnston 