The days get warmer, my smile gets wider.
I used to be a cold creature, at home in the dark, dank and dreary. All year round I would crave that crisp autumn breeze that would whisk through the trees in May, tangling my wiry hair as it went.
I used to be a cold creature, at home in the dark, dank and dreary. All year round I would crave that crisp autumn breeze that would whisk through the trees in May, tangling my wiry hair as it went.
Two years ago we spent our Christmas in Edinburgh. We slid down snow covered hills in flattened cardboard boxes and made a snow bear and clothed him in a singlet and beanie from Bundeburg.
In Prague I ran around catching snowflakes on my tongue, and we wore scarves and gloves and thick comfy socks while drinking hot wine and smiling.
I was in an ice coated heaven.
But ever since then I've felt in some way robbed of my summer.
What was once a season for me to dread and sneer at (in my typically teenage way): the sun, the heat, the beach with it's sand and crowds of bikini clad people.
Now I bathe in the sunlight that shines in through the Nursery window and finally touches the spot I sit at 7:48am. I ache for the warmth it brings to the morning. I breath deeply and feel at peace.
The warm days come and go on the edge of winter. They tease me into packing away my uggies and track pants, then surprise me again with their hot-chocolate weather.
I know by May I'll be pulling on my jeans with an enthusiasm reserved for reuniting with old friends, but this year I dream of hot, salty nights eating mangos and strawberries, wearing strapless dresses and listening to the summer rain.
In Prague I ran around catching snowflakes on my tongue, and we wore scarves and gloves and thick comfy socks while drinking hot wine and smiling.
I was in an ice coated heaven.
But ever since then I've felt in some way robbed of my summer.
What was once a season for me to dread and sneer at (in my typically teenage way): the sun, the heat, the beach with it's sand and crowds of bikini clad people.
Now I bathe in the sunlight that shines in through the Nursery window and finally touches the spot I sit at 7:48am. I ache for the warmth it brings to the morning. I breath deeply and feel at peace.
The warm days come and go on the edge of winter. They tease me into packing away my uggies and track pants, then surprise me again with their hot-chocolate weather.
I know by May I'll be pulling on my jeans with an enthusiasm reserved for reuniting with old friends, but this year I dream of hot, salty nights eating mangos and strawberries, wearing strapless dresses and listening to the summer rain.
