hibernaculum

Not a breath of wind disturbs Melbourne for three days. Beginning nine days ago with a Saturday of rain, the unrelenting greyness sits on us for nine days. In the east fog is a permanent pall no ray of sun can penetrate. We are locked in cold antipodean doldrums.

Winter begins officially on June 1, although the solstice usually marks the onset of the real wintry stuff. This year winter begins on New Year’s Day. Weekend cycling has been crap: buckets of precipitation fall each Saturday and Sunday. Hours of sunlight reach a new nadir.

Yesterday five of us ride to St Andrews. The air is chill and the steam rises from us as we pedal our steeds uphill from a swollen Yarra at Warrandyte. Traffic is sparse. I’m toasty in my new fire-engine red Turbine, a bit cool when I tuck it into the back pocket.

I’ve always preferred winter to summer—the chance to break out clothes not seen for months, sloshing through puddles, the sloughing off of summer’s torpor. I welcome the different seasons—how does anyone tolerate gorgeous one day, perfect the next?

Now I’m confused. Summer doesn’t really happen this year and I miss it. My vegetable garden calls it quits, all growth stagnates except for the flourishing weeds. My good woman is pining for warmth and humidity. The football fails to rouse any winter passion in me.

The easy way out if the dosh is available is to go to France with a bike, not an option for me this year. Plans are forming for a venture in 2013.

In the meantime, I’m organising my hibernaculum. A hibernaculum is the den of any hibernating animal, one’s winter quarters. Mine is to be all about reading and writing. Current writing conditions are unfavourable. The long bench I set up when I moved back to Number 96 is inadequate, the computer screen too low and too close. I have no place to write by hand.

First thing is to get a decent desk. I’ve measured up my back room office and a nice corner desk with two wide shelves above it is the thing. Hundreds of books and boxes and folders will need rearranging but this is fine winter sport.

I prepare a list of office furniture outlets to visit, get excited. I wake early. While snipping garden refuse in the front yard it dawns on me that today is a public holiday. I will put no hibernaculum in place today. Bugger!  

Rock on.