People who live in warmer places probably find it hard to understand the special sense of elation a Melbournite feels when the sun shines sweetly down through blue skies in the dying days of winter.
The jasmine- inexplicably- blooms, and the pink and white magnolia and fruit blossoms serenade the promise of Spring. We flock to parks and beaches to feel the caress of warm sunshine on winter pale skin.
I missed this, in the very brief time that I lived in Darwin, and even in sub tropical Ballina, where it never truly got cold enough to reap the gratitude for warmer days.
Here in Melbourne, we know that we can’t count on days like these to continue. We don’t get a nice, predictable run of clear sunny days from a certain point on the calendar, like Sydney. We can’t rely on consistently warm days until January, and by then the days might be 40 degrees.
Our days of perfectly beautiful sunshine are sporadic, and  deeply precious for that fact.