In the Northern
Hemisphere you’re all thinking about harvesting and battening down for the
coming winter. You have Halloween, with
pumpkins hollowed out with cut-out faces and candles lit inside them. I believe
you put these on your door step. You’re enjoying the color of autumn, the brisk
winds spreading their colorful leaves over the ground and you’re making the
most of every hot sunny day that sneaks its way into autumn’s progress, lulling
you with memories of summer.
When your winter storms
hit we hear about them on our news, in the midst of our summer days while we
sit around in the long evenings, enjoying barbeques, and the benefits of daylight saving - except
for the children who refuse to go to bed while the sun is up.
September and October
in the Southern Hemisphere are a time of hope and growth. We hope for a nice
wet spring, warm enough to make the trees blossom and the grass grow. Our
palates are blessed with the crunch of freshly picked asparagus, lightly
steamed, then drizzled with melted butter and garlic. We don’t enjoy the
equinox winds that sometimes blow from September till December, drying the
ground, bending the trees and blasting the residents with its sharp edges,
because winter is inclined to lash it tail down here, Down Under.
While you are snuggling
down to write this autumn, preparing to put into words all your ideas and
themes that summer activities have stopped you from doing – think of us.
September October is when we dash out into the garden, plant and nurture,
dreaming of a bountiful harvest.
Halloween is not very
exciting down under. An American custom,
it’s still catching on. Children dress in costumes and knock on the door for
treats. Don’t ask them for a trick, they
have no idea what you mean. It’s like a
begging trail. No pumpkins, but lots of witches and fearsome masks. Noses are
turned up at homemade cookies, shop-bought sweets are the preferred treats.
There is considerable parental resistance to this pseudo holiday.
Finding time to write
in spring becomes a search for elusive minutes. Where have they gone? They’ve
migrated north, to you. This is your opportunity to finish that novel, complete
that poem, solve that plot hole and submit the romance you’ve rewritten three
times. Grab the chance while your fellow authors, Down Under, are in the tight
grasp of spring on the energy carousel.
I hope you enjoy your
autumn and winter. I envy you, tucked up tight, snug inside, perhaps snowbound
even, with all our spare minutes piled up in the hallway for you to use – until
come April/May they wing their way south once more, for me to snaffle and
devour.
Grab them, cherish
them, use them well. I’ll be waiting for the leftovers!
