In my heart of hearts I know that I will be lucky to experience eighty summers, or springs, or autumns. Eighty is not really that many, is it? And yet I find it difficult not to feel impatient with the seasons. In the sweat and irritation of a heatwave I yearn for cool autumn breezes. And in the midst of itchy winter chilblains I long to feel warm all day long.
But this summer I tried harder to live in and rejoice in each passing moment, to feel and revel in the heat rather than merely resent it, and to enjoy all those long, sunny evenings. I want to be more like the little girl in the picture above who was excited by any small pleasures that came her way.
This summer has been memorable in many ways. We celebrated a significant wedding anniversary at historic Collingrove Homestead in the Barossa Valley. A cousin whom I hadn’t seen in nearly 30 years came to stay with her beautiful daughters and we shared a magical weekend together. And my youngest son went to Jamboree 2016 in Sydney and was away for two weeks, his longest trip ever.
The garden quietly grew and flourished while my face was turned, although unfortunately the horrid couch grass in my garden beds flourished too. I preserved fruit in the evenings and watched my little chicks grow to adolescence.
Any suggestions for names for two gawky black Australorps whose voices are now breaking from cheaps to clucks, would be most welcome.