I don’t know why I love Melbourne so much at this time of year. Perhaps my most seminals times as a teen were spent in Autumn. First boyfriends and best friends. I miss my friend, who decided to leave the party early, much more in Autumn.
I wish I had someone to spent time with at the National Gallery, viewing the decorative arts and marvelling at the floor in Tiepolo’s Banquet of Cleopatra. Then a walk through the Botanical Gardens. Crunching leaves beneath out feet while we made plans.
Now life is planned with daily reminders for jobs to be done, none of them for ourselves but everything for the greater good of the household. It is impossible to be a free spirit with a mortgage and children.
I am filled with a restlessness right now that inspires me to either do something to the house, or drink read wine at the Botanical Hotel. My desires are always suburb specific. South Yarra is for Autumn. Carlton and Brunswick is for Winter. Spring is South Melbourne and Summer is Prahran. That’s how it is and nothing will change.
I want to read in the remaining sun. Walk in the slowing gardens. Mooch in bookstores. Smell woodsmoke in the morning air. Watch the still water on the bay. Wear knits and boots. Listen to jazz. Spy bird nests in the semi naked trees.
*sigh* Melbourne, you lovely lady, I do love you so.