The seasons change quickly and dramatically in Victoria. Last weekend we
were frolicking on a beach in East Gippsland with the ocean still holding its
summer warmth. This week we’re scrambling for scarves and extra layers as the
thermometer on the porch has plunged to 9 degrees. The first fire for the
season was lit over Easter and a long winter of collecting kindling and
sourcing firewood stretches ahead of us. I look forward to snuggling up with
warming brews and gooey cheeses and going up a dress size keeping warm by
eating bakes, stews and lasagnas in our newly converted to gas oven.
The autumn colour is starting to really blaze. The reason we chose to
live in the Yarra Valley was for the European trees that are so abundant.
Whilst living in Scotland and England we became smitten with the dramatic
seasonal changes that are mostly due to the gaining and losing of leaves on
certain trees. I can stand under an oak at any time of year and be transported
to a fairyland story of my childhood. We have such a tree in our yard; I fully
expect to see Moonface and Silky sliding down its interior and greeting us with
big smiles as they pop out the bottom, landing on soft cushions with a gentle
bump.
Living here is just like living in fairyland. Autumn transports you to a
pixie world as the silver birch and pine trees start to see villages of red and
white spotted toadstools inhabit the land. The moss in the lawn feels ancient
and looks as though goblins might convene there to plot mischief. Even the
tulips and daffodils grow in circles that the fairies can dance around. (Oh
wait, that was me playing a trick on my neighbours!)
Another fairytale land we lived in was near Loch Lomond just north of
Glasgow at the foot of the Campsie Fells. We decided to walk the West Highland
Way on a whim and as darkness slowly started to creep up on us one night I
could swear there was going to be trolls around the corner. The ground was
gnarled with twisted tree roots and we started to run, as a centuries old feeling
of panic arose that we were on truly ancient magical ground. No trolls thank
goodness but we have never pitched a tent so fast as to escape what felt
alarmingly like the real Middle Earth.
Returning from the UK we moved back to Perth and missed all the European
peculiarities especially the deciduous trees.
As Perth is hot and sunny in summer and mild and sunny in winter we became
bored with the sameness of it all. It’s far too lovely, all the time. The natives’
have constantly bare brown limbs cruising around, always on and in and around
the water. It’s all a bit too idyllic for me. I was never much of a yachtsman
anyway. My head was over the side of the boat the whole way to Rottnest Island
most of the time. My poor dad was disappointed in the lack of seamanship in the
rest of our family too.
Back to the Yarra Valley and I prefer the drama and interest of this
swirling, constantly changing landscape.
One morning, on my drive to work in Healesville,
the cloud filled sky had the brilliant, bright, luminous energy of a ferocious
Blake painting. The next morning it was all subdued and muted with the gentle
hues of an early Constable. The rainbows that regularly arc over Mount Riddell
at breakfast time absolutely take my breath away.
So it’s drama for me, and our valley is a perfect fit. Does your home
hold the same enthralling spell for you? I’d love to hear…
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