As winter has hit us in Australia, I thought it was time to write a blog about this chilly season, the one I admit, is my least favourite. There are a few likes and comforts to get me through the long dark days, sitting by the fire is one, another, knowing it is footy season and finally the comfort of drinking a hot chocolate or sipping a steaming bowl of soup. It puzzles me why people prefer the cold and darkness over the sunshine and the light. If winter was a character in my book it would be the evil one.
During this bitterly cold season most people spend their time indoors hiding from the rain and chilly air but being a writer and traveller, this is not appealing when I want to discover new stories. I do not let this miserable season of white, grey and black, where the trees lose their leaves and animals hide from the cold and survive on their storage of food, stop my passion to write!
Here the story begins…
I jumped into my car and travelled back in time to a place where women dressed in long gowns that brushed against the ground and men wore top hats and long coats. Horses pulled carriages as they trotted along the dusty roads. Men carried their swags to the river’s edge to seek their fortune. Pans and shovels rested on the banks. A navy and white flag flapped in the breeze near a wooden wagon that stood on the smoky hill.
Back in the township soldiers marched in their red jackets and long black pants stomping in time to the beat of a drum while carrying their muskets. They stopped and fired a few shoots into the air.
I hurried into the New York Bakery for some comfort to be greeted with a warm fireplace and a chance to decorate my own gingerbread man. I smoothed the white icing on and arranged the red, white and green boiled lollies on top.
As I stepped back onto the street from the sky fell little pieces of flaky white. They landed on my black beanie and in my fair hair. They blew past me in the breeze. I rubbed my hands together and then wrapped my soft woollen scarf around my neck. Suddenly a song entered my head.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
And that is what it did. I had seen snow before but never experienced it snowing. I giggled in delight as my boots stomped in the icy slosh.
As the sun set, a group of singers gathered around. The sweet sound of Christmas carols floated in the air as people crowded around and join in. Holding their song books, in their long coats, they proudly sang around a podium decorated with a green wreath and red ribbon.
A man carrying a lantern strolled along the road. The songs came to an end and bright colours flicked across the bulidings. There was a roar of applause and people clapped their hands. Cameras were taken out of bags and shots were taken of this magnificent display.
Piles of whiteness rested on railings and across benches. A splash of water fell on my face and then another. The lights reflected on the wet road.
People ran for cover but not me…
Being a dancer, dreamer, writer, storyteller I just stood still for a minute as another song entered my head.
Can you guess which one?
Singin’ and Dancin’ in the Rain.
What do you think I did?
Yes just that.
Even on the darkest day in a dreary season I can still search for the sunshine. I experienced snow for the first time and danced in the rain.