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The last few weeks, Spring budded and then blossomed. Temperatures rose, and we tasted the first dusting of heat, heralding the dry summer meteorologists have forecast. Bushfire warnings were posted in our region. My husband and I organised our annual fire security assessment and planned the first of our summer fire drills.

Bushfire Australian-style is frightening. It is wild and unruly. The fire rages out-of-control, hungrily consuming the dry, straw-like grasses of summer, licking up trees, leaping along treetops, billowing in its fury, enveloping the landscape.

Bushfire is a fearsome thing. I felt the fear and heat of bushfire as a young child, and in my adult years lived through the devastation that such fire can cause. It is an environmental feature here that underscores life Downunder where we live with the breathless heat of the sun.

Snow is a rarity in the Australian landscape. Of course, Australia has its alpine regions, but for a good part of the ski season, snow has to be manufactured.

So this Friday morning, it was a huge surprise when I threw off the bedclothes and trudged sleepily to the windows to open the curtains. Instead of an azure blue sky and bright light of Spring, I experienced the mute white light of a snowed-in morning.

The end-of -week tiredness that I had felt disappeared as I absorbed the snowy landscape. Excited, I grabbed my camera and chronicled the scene. Snow holds the same promise of magic that white fairy lights hung on Christmas trees holds. I look at both in wonderment.

Apart from the whitewash added to the natural colour of the landscape, I was struck by the quiet after a snowfall. Have you heard it? Amazing, isn’t it? Definitely magical! So different from the sounds of a country Spring morning in my part of the world.

I've also uploaded this blog at where there are some pcitures taken that morning on my camera and then on my iPhone as I was leaving for work.