#63 A window into winter

Winter has arrived in the Hunter Valley. Our winters are not particularly harsh, but when the first of the new season’s chilly winds races down from The Tops to blast the valley floor, it’s always a shock.

I become complacent, leisurely soaking up the delightful autumn warmth as if it will last forever; there is no urgency in my step, or haste in completing outdoor tasks. Autumn is a time of indulgence; I can’t bear to waste the pleasant autumn sunshine. So, inevitably, it feels like the unexpected return of an unwelcome visitor when the first icy wind greets me in the morning.

But, I have the most fabulous place from which to watch the winter take hold – my computer room!

Typical of old houses, our rented home has some dim corners that evoke a glum atmosphere, but the space I chose for my computer/craft room is a light and airy nook – and it has a splendid view! After I cleaned the neglected enclosed veranda, I set to work making bright curtains from some bargain-bin fabric, and then reconnected my computer and randomly placed my knick-knacks - results? A cheery, homely room that brings the outdoors in.

The view from my computer chair

From my desk, I look out onto trees, most of which are exotic species of unknown names. I am not yet fully acquainted with my garden; a couple of ancient rose bushes of enormous girth are producing an occasional pink bloom; mystery bulbs are pushing glossy new leaves through the soil; and old-fashioned geraniums and succulents poke out from beneath unkempt bushy shrubs. But it is the trees that really grab my attention.

And it is the trees that grab hold of the wild winter wind; or perhaps that should be about-face - a spreading canopy of green and gold thrashes about, bending under the force of a gust, and springing back as the wind temporarily releases its grasp.

The wind howls around the house, whistling through gaps, whining eerily. And the scattered fallen leaves are whipped violently from the lawn into the air, only to perform a dainty twirling jig as they settle again in a moment of stillness.

Through the mayhem, the sun shines - my room is warmed, and nature glows with highlights flitting through the foliage. Racing clouds throw a dreary shadow, and then the sunlight suddenly bursts onto the treetops as the clouds part at the hands of the rushing wind.

I can hear the rustle of the wind in the trees; I can see the swaying of windblown branches and the tossing of strewn autumn leaves; and I can sense the hush in a fleeting lull - I can enjoy the discomfort of winter from the comfort of my room. When it's too cold to get out, I can watch the outdoors, avoiding that hemmed-in feeling that often develops in winter.

Looking into the spreading canopy outside my room