It's summer here in Australia, of course. And February is one of the most trying months of all, as heat is combined with humidity and you drip through each day, diving into anywhere airconditioned whenever possible, gasping when you go back out into the sticky air. If no aircon, then pretty please an electric fan, just to move the air...
While northern hemisphere bloggers wax wistfully lyrical about summer - and I'm not ungrateful for things like never having to heat up a car engine before using it, or not really owning a winter coat (jacket, yes, coat, no - well, I have the one I take when I go to wintry places) or as the Yarn Harlot wrote of this week, not having a baguette go from warm on purchase to frozen baguettesicle by the time you get it home - I'm not ungrateful. But roll on March.
I've lived in places that get hotter than Sydney, but there's such a difference between dry heat, like an oven, and the jungly enervation of humidity.
Spring and autumn, they're my favourites.
(Yup, this is another photo from years ago. I really will try to document the present day this week...)
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