I’ve said it before and I’m likely to continue to keep saying it for sometime - I love winter.
I love the smell of the woodfire in the air. I love the ice that forms in thin sheets over the sheep troughs or as crystals on top of our lawn by the side of the house. I love everything about it, and have done for as long as I can remember.
Which is why it always baffled me when I would see tourists from across the world, stripping off their clothing and slathering themselves in tanning oil to bake under the smallest slivers of sunlight regardless of the time or place. Aussie’s learn from a young age - especially outback kids - that the sun isn’t to be messed with. “Slip, Slop, Slap” wasn’t a guideline for us, it was a set of rules. Which is why my skin would physically pucker to see the blasé nature of overseas tourists flouncing around under our crippling sunshine.
Granted - my skin tone rivals the Pantone colour Bright White for top place in the category of unsightly fluorescent whites. I could burn via candlelight let alone spending a quick thirty minutes in the sun without 2 litres of sunscreen slathered on. Regardless, it always seemed foolish to me. And still does today - albeit a little less than before.
It was during our year living in Europe and England that scrutinised my perspective for our climate in Outback Australia. Long grey, rainy days that turned quickly into months without a splinter of sunlight started to take it’s toll on me, seemingly without me even fully noticing. Spending long months indoors, constantly in artificial heating, in a retail job that - mercifully - had a large bank of windows looking onto the closed-in street was miserable…
Truly miserable… It felt like every article of clothing I owned had a varying degree of dampness to it. The coldness opened up a black hole inside of me that seemed to suck into it my drive and creativity. Encompassing everything good until it felt like it never existed to begin with. The daily commute to work in the dark, only to get home… in the dark, was nothing like I had experienced before. The phrase “winter blues” became less of an offhanded comment of malarkey and more of a real and true diagnosis.
Of course, and at risk of sounding dramatic, there were other happenings in our life that would’ve contributed to this state of mind. It was only in hindsight that I realised that the best parts of my time in England was when I was in a park, surrounded by nature and ironically - sunning myself.
Upon returning home to Australia, I have more understanding for our beloved visitors from overseas when they embrace our sunlight. As someone who draws a lot of creativity and inspiration from the variations of light across our sky, I find it strange I didn't' find that compassion sooner. I guess experience is key - to the point now that I start to find myself claustrophobic after a few consecutive grey, overcast days.
So, for now I am happy to continue to embrace our unique lukewarm, winter days in the sunshine. Although, you still won’t find me within a 2km radius from a bottle of tanning oil anytime soon.
