skipping a season

Another day at the office, literally. In fact I'm still at the office, but not for much longer. Home time awaits.

Had a few beautiful days, weather-wise, so much like spring you would swear it's already here. But then I suppose it almost is. Where did those eight months go? Soon we'll be jetting off to the Whitsundays, where we can pretend it's summer for eight glorious days. How very decadent, skipping a whole season.

There are many things I've been loving about the warmer weather - letting F run around bare-bummed outside (so she can quite unexpectedly do a wee and look up at me in amazement as it puddles on the ground), feeling the sunshine warm my hair, opening the windows in the back room and not feeling too cold, listening to Linda Ronstadt (and singing, very loud, pretending to live out my fantasy of being in a Linda Ronstadt tribute band) and picking (and smelling) the beautiful nasturtiums, my absolute favourite, from the back yard and putting them in a vase on the kitchen window sill, where I can still smell them from the other side of the room and be reminded of childhood summers at Lennox Head.

Roll on summer, roll on.