The locals around here are the Bunurong tribe. They reckoned there were about 6 or so different Seasons.
Not just four.
Over the years I have noticed a bit of what they were on about. After a descent into the European ‘2nd season’, with a blast of wind and cold, there was a plateau here. All sunny skies and stable weather. The migratory birds seemed to know that maybe this was thier chance to get out and fly into a summer that was kicking in somewhere way north… like Siberia. Huge flocks of water birds have been heading Nth this past two weeks.
The days got still and quiet and warm. The water became clear and so did the sky.
I guess to put a daggy point on it. I would call it ‘a nice time of year’ and I like to think that this is what the Bunurong called this time too. Their word for this bit of the year was Manemit or ‘good’.
I can feel that this will only last for a few more weeks or days even… then what? Wind? Winter?
Today I asked a wizened old guy about when the Whiting may be going ‘off the bite’. (I want to have a crack at them one more time this season.) He surprised me by saying that they disappear with the first frost…
Anyway, Manemit does it for me. I like it. We have been hanging out at the beach over the road every other day for the past week or so. I know this watery fun is coming to an end. Then? Wood fires and toasty jumpers… All good and right but I want to walk and splash and stand still in this short ‘season’. I don’t want to waste it at all.