Today marks the first anniversary of our move to Melbourne. So much has happened in that year. We settled into our new home which is ideal for us. We have joined some social and educational groups. We go out most days and have covered kilometres on foot in our exploration of this wonderful city so full of historical buildings and the sort of Nineteenth Century architecture which I admire so much.
Unlike Sydney and Brisbane there is a concerted effort here not to overdo the modernisation bit. Yes, there are some places that have high-rise anonymous forests of glass and plastic Lego-shaped towers but they are mainly confined to an area called Docklands. We looked at that area when we first arrived in Melbourne and shook our heads at its alienating effect. It wasn’t for us.
So where we are is where we want to be.
Not so long ago I raved on about the wonderful change of seasons in Melbourne. The weather was bracing, I said. A recent bronchial infection and pneumonia soon made me moderate my enthusiasm for the Wayward Wind that yearns to wander.
The seasons are still amazing, but the bracing wind has lost some of its magic. I even find myself smiling when the sun shines for that brief second. I cosset myself in scarves and mittens and wonder whatever happened to that muff that I loved so much in Siberia when I was a child. Funny that I should be thinking about that muff now.
That ode that I quoted about Autumn in a previous post has now been replaced. I’m now into Shelley’s “Ode to the West Wind” and that line “If Winter comes can Spring be far behind?”