Almost like autumn

It's springtime, well and truly.

One day it's 90 degrees and sunny or cloudy, the next it's 50 for a high, and the woodstove blazes away overnight.

Today it's a bit of both. As I write, it's 7 p.m., 66 degrees, the sun is lowering in the sky, and there are mid-level clouds promising more rain than the smattering we got today. It was enough to water our infant homestead rose bushes.

I am wearing my sweatshirt and trakky daks, and listening to Steve rustling around in his manly shed with the news radio on. I hear a crow calling to his mates, small birds singing melodious, and Buster beginning his sunset chorus of squawks and screeches.

I smell sweetly blooming dainty pink flowers on the bushes outside the sliding glass door in the courtyard, and a hint of eucalyptus tree smoke from neighboring woodstoves firing up for the chilly night to come.

It almost seems like autumn to me.

And so, I made an autumn meal, which is scenting the house deliciously. A roast lamb with stuffing rolled into the middle, pumpkin pieces and sweet potato dotted with butter cooking next to the roast in order to soak up juices, and sweet corn on the cob wrapped in foil and smothered in real butter. For dessert we'll have vanilla ice cream with stewed rhubarb.



So I guess this is my bit of rebellion on this second day of November in a southern hemisphere spring. I've made an autumn meal. I will raise my chilled glass of fizzy lemonade in remembrance of you all, who are at home in a northern hemisphere fall...well and truly.