Word on the weather

Today, it is summer.

I don't care whether you consider early September 'summer', but if there ever was a day I could label the beginning of summer, it would be today.

Last Saturday, the best word to describe the weather was 'implacable'. The wind and heavy rain made the streets of Sydney a miserable place to be. It was my great misfortune to be forced to go out and contend with the elements when my commitments bid me outside.

Today, however, I stepped outside and the hot dry air immediately enveloped my skin. The pavement burned and I felt naked without sunscreen. I felt I should head to the beach instead of the polling booths for the local council elections. Summer, I thought, is here.

One surefire summer sign is a scent I can only really describe as 'strawberry ice cream'. Not the deluxe stuff you get in cardboard tubs, but the pink third of a neapolitan plastic offering. My parents have this growing in their front yard. I've not yet identified the exact plant because they have a bit of a flower jungle in their front patch, but the scent was always strongest in summer.

One year I thought I knew which plant it was. Ironically, the suspect died but the scent remained and I still don't know. Now I pass gardens on my way to and from work and I can smell it: strawberry summer.