11/05/2022 The Last Day of Summer (Or the Middle Day of Autumn)

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 Roger found a kindred spirit in the lady next door.  On a brisk and beautiful evening they stopped and chatted: him taking out the rubbish bins and she working in her gardens.  Together they decided that the recent warm weather represented the last days of summer.

"It's going to be cold soon!" they chorused.  "This is definitely the Last Day Of Summer!"

I hadn't the heart to break it to them that summer finished at the end of February and winter is just around the corner.  If they wanted to be accurate the best they could hope for was the Middle Days of Autumn, which didn't have quite the same ring to it.

The annoying thing about the last (warm) days was that they happened when I had to stay inside working and Roger, poor soul, had to take the car to be serviced and spend most of the day lollygagging around Adelaide on his bicycle.

"I'm enjoying the last day of summer! "

"Warm sunshine, blue water.  Definitely a summer's day!"

"But winter is coming!"

I came home from my post-work ride and found him sitting out on the patio, enjoying a cool drink and checking the weather forecast.

"Tomorrow's definitely the last warm day!" he announced.  "It's gonna be all winter after that."

Well in that case I wanted to enjoy some of this last summer action myself, so off I went next day and did all my errands by bike.

The day was neither warm nor sunny.  I felt cheated.  If there were a contract for the Last Day of Summer it would specify warmth and sunshine, and would be in breach.

Roger robustly defended the last day of summer, setting a very low bar by stating that any day that was not raining met the criteria for a summer day. "Friday is definitely the last day of summer," he announced confidently.  "We need to make the most of it!"  So we went for another bike ride which started off in a an agreeably warm and sunshiny fashion.

Starting at the bottom of the esplanade: South looked quite promising.

North was a little more dubious. Due to a lack of bicycle track to the south, we went north.

Along the way there were many indications that summer was well gone for the year.  The ferris wheel at Glenelg had packed up and gone to wherever ferris wheels go for the winter:

The beaches, now free of cavorting holiday-makers, were being replenished,

and were now the the domain of cavorting dogs and their owners.

Along the way I found a pelican,
a fish out of water,

and a balancing man.




I also found a house with mirrored walls, perfect for selfies.  There was probably someone inside, looking out at me and shaking their head.

It's very hard to hold a camera level whilst riding a bicycle.

By the time we got home the sun had all gone away and Roger, perusing the weather app with gloomy glee, was confident that the warm weather was gone as well.

"It's going to be cold and rainy until October," he opined.  "And likely blowing a gale as well."

I expect ice bergs to be spotted drifting up the Gulf St Vincent any day now.  I'll let you know as soon as I see one.

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