My favourite season has arrived in Sydney – Autumn. It begins in the balmy, residual humidity of sticky February and finishes in the dry cool of a winter prequel. Without haze the horizon flattens and sharpens into focus; the sky lifts towards the stratosphere and the shade regains a measure of chill. The sun, for the most part, shines and yet, as longer days shorten, the air acquires the nostalgic foreboding of the onset of loss.
This is my son’s first autumn. At four and a half months old he can’t yet feel those weighty emotions we associate with the shift – it is but a question of warm or cool, blanket or no blanket, hats and socks and jumpsuits. He may be excused for being unsure as to the time of year considering we still go to the beach several days a week. With the ocean at 22C, it’s hard to resist.
Tragicocomedia 
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