Sweet sweat

Hello friends. Thanks to those who've commented in my absence. I'm going to be offline for quite a bit longer but am taking this opportunity while visiting in Sydney for a brief update.

The Canberra experience has turned out well. I'm busy at work and leading a much more hectic social life than I do in Darwin. It's a nice change. Highlights have been lots of cafes, catching up with friends and family and one sensational concert - Michelle Shocked (how lucky was I to catch that one!).

Here's a little word portrait I wrote the other day. It's in need of a good edit, but what the hell, I'll give you the raw version and you still get the picture.

Canberra
There's snow on the Brindabellas in September, when I arrive.

I walk to work through sleety flurries, beneath roiling clouds, every shade of grey. And the lattice of thin, black branches on these tree-lined streets point accusingly, their cloaks of gold and russet shed weeks ago.

The wind is cutting, vicious. Even my thick black coat of heavy wool, my bundling scarf and a hat pulled low fail to exclude it entirely.

But still, the air is fresh and a sunny day, along with some rain, brings forth the promise of spring.

The first pale lime shoots appear on that tracery of branches. Floriade is in full swing with its excess of brilliant, bursting life and colour. Thousands upon thousands of tulips fill the park with shades of yellow, orange, red and pinks; and thousands of tourists flock to enjoy the sunny weather and the spectacle.

Another week or two and each day I watch as tree after tree first shoots, then fills out. All those black, questing fingers covered in a thick new coat of green.

Magpies carol in the clear, cold dawn. A fleet of balloons sails majestically over the silver spire of Parliament House. Twice I leave home without my overcoat and return without falling victim to hypothermia.

Spring has arrived at last in our nation's capital.