It is spring here. I almost feel guilty enjoying it so much, when friends and family back in the UK are posting updates online about the days getting shorter, the mornings getting colder. If I could bundle up some of our Tasmanian spring and send it across to you all, I would.
Last weekend we moved our clocks forward an hour. Not that we needed to – the mornings and the evenings here were already filled with light. The kind of light that makes you run from one window to another, watching it change, holding your breath as the sunbeams catch one cloud, exhaling silently as they shimmer on another.
We walk down our street each morning, on our way to nursery, or the library, or the store, and DorkySon chats away to me about all the different birds he can hear – the insistent chirp of the blackbird, the mad cackle of the kookaburra. He wrinkles his nose at the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle in the air, and points out all the colourful flowers that he sees poking through other people’s fences. The earth feels alive here, right now.