This is Winter?

You've gotta love this global warming. Here it is, June 12, and I'm singing that Billy Thorpe song 'It's Almost Summer'. In the 20s Celsius, high 70s for those with antique weights and measures. The shack's almost hot, but it will be chilly again tonight.

It's supposed to be Winter here. Not because Australians are sensible and mark Winter from the Winter Solstice (June 21 or thereabouts), but because officially, and culturally, the seasons are named from the first of June, September, December and March. I've heard some theory about why this is so, something to do with the dates on which Summer and Winter uniforms were issued to the soldiers in charge of the New South Wales gulag two centuries ago, or some other reason that is similarly too preposterous to remember.

I must be some sort of traitor, because I reckon Winter will start about 9 days from today when the day is the shortest and the night longest. And then, "as the days lengthen, the cold strengthens" as the cold land is still lagging behind the increasing hours of sunlight. But what do I know? Everone tells me it's already Winter.

They should look outside at people swimming and strolling in T-shirst and shorts, and then tell me that.

Take a look: the hibiscus at the letterbox doesn't seem to think it's Winter, otherwise she wouldn't be blazing like a flame the size of a dinner plate. But of course, she's not a fair dinkum Aussie. She's from Hawaii, making her a Yank, and the Yanks make a lot more sense on the notion of the seasons than Aussies do ... except for having them upside down and back to front, that is.