Today the sun is furthest south. It will be our longest day and our shortest night. It’s the Southern Summer Solstice.

As if on cue, the cold winds of the last few days have dropped and tall Summer grasses sway in the warming breeze. The countryside is golden.

Yellow Billy Buttons flower in secluded places while promiscuous dandelions sprinkle paddocks and roadsides like – as Petrus Spronk describes them – fallen stars.

After the rain, our potato crop has gone berserk. The salad greens are thriving, too, but the tomatoes will need the benefit of a few warm nights before they’ll grow to bear fruit. Today will be long and sunny and we live in hope.

Perhaps we’ll make a trip to the Sunday Market to jostle with crowds for ripely luscious strawberries. Maybe later we’ll have a picnic under the trees on Wombat Hill, followed by a get-together with friends for a pre-Christmas drink. Then home for a stroll in the setting sun. 

So many hours, so many possibilities.