It is a fine and sunny autumn day today. Autumn days have a luminosity about them denied to other sunny days. On summer days, the sun is harsh and abrasive and the heat comes not only from the sun, but the earth and the buildings and the road, suffocating waves from all directions, and the intensity must be endured, rather than enjoyed.
But autumn is different - the land has cooled, buildings hold no fiery malice, the sun is allowed to take centre stage.
Today is such a day. To my right, a spider is busy repairing a small hold in a web that must be two feet across. High up in the she-oaks and the cypress pine, I can see many more such webs, built by spiders more daring or clever than my small pet. The scent of Murraya drifts across with the sounds of a king parrot and chattering lorikeets. A skink darts into a hole on the verandah after an ant, while more of that creature's compatriots march in an unvarying line up the side of the verandah post. A soft breeze cuts the edge of the heat.
There is a laziness about the day, enhanced by suburban sounds, a distant lawnmower, the sea plane heading towards Broken Bay, the rrrsh, rrrsh of leaves being swept on a concrete path, laughter from a distant party.
Soon we will lose the sun through the hills that surround this little valley, but for now it is a benediction, reward for the survival of summer.
But autumn is different - the land has cooled, buildings hold no fiery malice, the sun is allowed to take centre stage.
Today is such a day. To my right, a spider is busy repairing a small hold in a web that must be two feet across. High up in the she-oaks and the cypress pine, I can see many more such webs, built by spiders more daring or clever than my small pet. The scent of Murraya drifts across with the sounds of a king parrot and chattering lorikeets. A skink darts into a hole on the verandah after an ant, while more of that creature's compatriots march in an unvarying line up the side of the verandah post. A soft breeze cuts the edge of the heat.
There is a laziness about the day, enhanced by suburban sounds, a distant lawnmower, the sea plane heading towards Broken Bay, the rrrsh, rrrsh of leaves being swept on a concrete path, laughter from a distant party.
Soon we will lose the sun through the hills that surround this little valley, but for now it is a benediction, reward for the survival of summer.
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