Coloured

In a typically gushing blog entry around this time of year I have decided that autumn is the new spring, and, with it, colour is the new black and white. One traditionally thinks of autumn as the drawing of life from the land, the fading of days leading to an inevitable slump towards dark and cold. Here, the slump is very gradual, and autumn heralds a burst of life and colour that is like a second spring. Welcome settled weather brings a serenity that is very special, and a scene fitting of gushing prose.

Whilst walking in the sunshine for a sublime coffee in a funky part of town one day I heard the recent weather described as an Indian summer. Do summers in India always come late, or do we use this term to evoke the warmth that comes with spice and colour and getting cosy with 300 other human beings on a train carriage? I can’t imagine Indian summers being as crisp and clear as this one, but the colour was plain to see as I looked out at a biryani of transforming trees later that day, not so far from the spice of Jewel of India.

You may or may not appreciate, depending on whether you watch the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson or not, that Canberra is blessed with numerous green open spaces and rambling bush-cloaked ridges. Why autumn is so special is because it transcends these official reserves and parklands and sweeps into the boulevards, circles, gardens, and doormats of the happy little residents. Suburbia is king, cast in the vernal spotlight. I cannot think of a much better way to kick off a long Easter weekend by simply turning left out of the door, left again, and rambling through previously unknown streets as the day begins to glow and warm.

Easter managed to embody the spirit of transition that goes with this time of year, as Canberra turned from Indian summer to Russian winter in the space of its chocolaty days. The change was made all the more dramatic by a few days in Sydney in between, departing in shorts and returning to turn on the heating.

Sydney itself provided its own colour, including a wonderful roast dinner, a splendid coastal walk with even more splendid salt and pepper calamari, and an overly punitive parking ticket courtesy of the rip-off capital of the world. I won’t blame it on the carbon tax like everyone else, but when did Australia become so miserly and greedy? The only benefit I see in this seemingly persistent lack of change from a $50 note economy we have is that I appear to have a surplus of petrol vouchers from spending so much at the supermarket each time I go there. Which means I get cheaper petrol to pollute the atmosphere, and more opportunity to park supposedly illegally.

Money makes you wonder whether to put the heating on when Canberra has decided it is time for an early frost or two. Technically you should wait until after Anzac Day, but I’ve never been that technically minded (I was technically minded enough to press the ‘on’ button on the heating however). These cool nights tend to be forgiven once you are out again in those streets, in still very agreeable warm, sunny days. Streets where leaves float like giant red snowflakes, and the comfort of an overpriced coffee is just around the corner. Streets where colour trumps colour as birds fleet between the branches, an oversaturated suburbia very much alive in a frenzy of autumn.