The other day I was given a question which said, “Which season is it?” I needed the answer to access some money a friend had sent me. Well, thought I, it’s September so that must make it autumn (being an Australian we say autumn rather than fall). However, the friend who sent me the money is Canadian so I typed in fall. 

DENIED!

Not wanting to try again with ‘autumn’ in case it was also wrong and I got locked out, I messaged my friend and asked what the answer was, whether he had put autumn because he knows I’m Australian.

The response: summer.

He then went on to explain that over here summer lasts until the autumn equinox, around the 21st of September. I vaguely remembered something from earlier in the year when everyone was saying summer hadn’t started at the beginning of June but at the summer solstice.

Back home, seasons don’t really mean much. It’s either hot or not-so-hot. We count the seasons based on the month, so summer is December, January and February. Autumn is March, April and May. Winter is June, July and August. And Spring is September, October and November.

Of course, they have little bearing on what’s actually going on with the weather. Autumn is largely consumed by summer so you’d be lucky to get a bit of cooler weather by the end of April. The leaves don’t turn red or brown or orange so there’s not much to see.

Spring is a mix of wet and dry, November picking up some horrible heat every now and then, but also mixed with a few downpours. In that respect, it’s a bit like spring in the northern hemisphere. 

It’s a bit of a mind shift when you’re so used to doing everything by calendar months to have to switch to remembering when solstices and equinoxes take place. I prefer our system, but I suppose it’s because it’s the one I’ve grown up with. Either way, the dates are largely arbitrary. The essence of winter here lasted for about six months, spring for three weeks, and summer is just buggering around. One minute you think it’s gone, the next minute it’s blazing. 

Oh the joys of weather.