Australian Summer -

On Christmas Day, you eat prawns and mangoes, not roast turkey. You drink bubbles on a deck while wearing a floral shirt and shorts. You listen to the Boxing Day Test on AM radio while the fan oscillates. You go for a swim at 9pm, the water still warm from the day, the streetlights reflecting off the black glass of the bay.

One morning in late November, you step outside to hang the washing and the air hits you—not like warmth, but like a held breath. By mid-December, the screen door slams shut with a hollow clack that will become the rhythm of the next three months. The gum trees, ever the drama queens, start shedding bark in long, peeling strips, as if shrugging off last season’s skin. The cicadas begin their relentless, electric sawing, a frequency that bypasses the ears and drills straight into the base of the brain. australian summer

But the light brings new horrors. The mosquitos whine. And somewhere in the darkening garden, a Sydney funnel-web spider is thinking very dark thoughts. On Christmas Day, you eat prawns and mangoes,

This is a summer of extremes, and Australians love to recite its liturgy. You go for a swim at 9pm, the