Shroud of mystery
the city undercover
a siege by nature
Tag: winter
Poser
A bee, tree, carefree
hip, like tip-dyed teenagers
lining sunset roads
Morning shivers
piercing shards of cold
as passing through walking ghost
winters be crazy
Watch out
When I awoke this morning way late than usual (itโs alright, itโs Saturday), a dense fog clung to my window, shading Lake Ginninderra and the sunlight from my view.
Beyond the lake, in the distance, mild green and brown mountains rose through the mystic fog. It was so beautiful I couldโve stared at it all day. With my blanket over my shoulders, feet wrapped in cosy socks, behind the comfort of my insulated window.
I wouldโve loved to leave the house and run to those foggy mountains, but I was too lazy.
In less than thirty minutes, the fog departed, clouds separated, and a mild sun streamed into my room. I sat up in an instant, shedding my blanket. The sun was out at last. I moved to sit in the sun and within five minutes told myself, โWoah, thatโs too hot.โ
Itโs mid-winter and the sun was burning my skin.
Welcome to the bush capital.
When people in Australia say everything here is out to get you, they donโt just mean the inhabitants of our animal kingdom. They also mean the wind, winter sun, and especially the summer sun.
I havenโt experienced the summer yet, but I hear it melts leather gloves. Even though I canโt fathom why anyone would wear gloves outdoors in summer, if you do, itโll leave you a hot sticky mess.
But thatโs summer almost everywhere. Think California and Floridaโitโs too warm to stay indoors, so people cool off at the beach, drinking soda and water by the litres. Mountains catch fire every other day, and everyoneโs accustomed to heat waves. Itโs just a tad bit worse in Australia, no thanks to the gigantic pothole in the Ozone looking down on us.
But winter is all about the chills, right? Wrong. I, along with the rest of the world, imagined winter would be all about hot chocolate, snow storms, frosty sidewalks, foggy afternoons, and an overall aura of a magical mystic.
Turns out, in Australia, you can get sunburnt in winter. Thatโs how harsh the rays are. I come from a hot tropical country where itโs almost always 25 degrees or more, throughout the year. But Iโve never felt such searing hatred from the sun as I have in Canberra. And I havenโt even seen temperatures go beyond 20 degrees!
Letโs not forget the wind though. A couple of weeks ago, horrible winds blew away birds in flight. My jaw dropped as I watched through my window. When I stepped outside forcing myself not to be a coward, cold air cut through my face pushing me around like a sock puppet.
By afternoon today, the lake sat still, soaking in the heat hitting it square in the face. There was no wind of a breeze to rustle the pavement leaves. And you could hear parched throats wheezing as joggers passed you by.
Thatโs the land down under, mate. Watch out forโฆ everything natural.
Invading
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk my heels in to the path clawing their way like elbowing soldier limbs snaking braving unknown land into a frozen canvas fifty shades of green a thirty more of brown like monsters fully grown towers rooted on the ground a hoodie fading in the light no other soul within my sight or even a whiff stirring dewdrops on the leaves. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk my heels in to the path barging all along as pindrop in a morgue a crack in peace in a silent dome through outlined arches thousand echoing screeches and a hundred more whispers like black spots on pale face scattered along the maze unnamed birds picking dirt and dropping, as yeast in wort lost in a winter too cold for folks to banter.



