From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Spring in Sydney
Summary: not quite the style you might expect...
Date: 6 Oct 92 01:46:54 GMT
Organization: School of Physics, University of Sydney, Australia

Danger Mouse wanders over to the X-window. The bar lights dim slightly as
he addresses the patrons.

"Well, it looks as though I've had to come up with a brand new Spring in
Australia X-window. I wish I'd saved the one I posted last year. But I
guess this is forcing me to come up with something new. Or at least a new
way of describing the same things! Anyway, here we go..."

The X-window brightens and a David Attenborough-ish voice-over begins.

"Spring in the Great Southern Land spans the months of September, October
and November. Here, we look at one person's impression of this season of
change - only a very limited perspective on the time of year in one very
small geographical region of the mighty continent. Impressions from other
areas will be vastly different, so bear this in mind as we examine the
sights and sounds of spring around the eastern coastal city of Sydney."

The scene in the X-window coalesces into a dismal picture of a concrete
jungle under an oppressive grey sky. Heavy rain slices down at a crazy
angle, blown by the furious gusts of wind. People rush along the footpaths,
wielding umbrellas against the weather in a mostly futile effort to stay
dry. As a businessman walks by, his umbrella is swept inside out by the
merciless gale. He curses furiously and dashes to a nearby awning, under
which are gathered a small group of high school students. Many of the
Sydney shops have awnings, useful both as shelter from the wet and the
searing radiation of the summer sun.

"Sydney has a temperate to sub-tropical climate. Its rainfall is
distributed almost evenly among the months, with winter being slightly
wetter. However, the months of August and September are undoubtedly the
windiest. September begins with the swirling chaos of the tail end of
winter. The air retains its crisply cold bite and the natives huddle in
their thickest coats against the most severe weather that many of them
have ever seen."

The view changes to a suburban street. The rain is a little lighter here.
The leaves of the trees rustle over the sound of the rainfall, the
branches swaying vigorously in the wind. One or two trees are bare of
foliage, their skeletal remains denying the still-flowing sap deep in
their hearts. Puddles of water dot the paths. The only person in evidence
is the figure of the mail carrier, wrapped in a yellow raincoat and riding
a motorbike from mailbox to mailbox.

"But of course, as September progresses, the weather gradually warms and
becomes more hospitable. Usually such that, by the end of the football
season, games are being played in warm sunshine."

A modernistic stadium appears in the window. Thousands of fans watch the
finale to the rugby season, played out under a clear blue sky. Seagulls
whirl and circle in the air above. The scene zooms down to a nearby park,
where cyclists are enjoying the warmth of the day by taking a leisurely
ride through the picturesque landscape of grassy hills and scattered
trees. Across a busy road, golfers soak up the welcome sunshine as they
make their way around the course. Some of the deciduous trees are
beginning to sprout new growth of bright green leaves.

"Into early October, the Labour Day long weekend marks both the end of the
ski season in the Snowy Mountains to the southwest of Sydney and the
beginning of the beach season. Surf Lifesavers patrol the more popular
beaches, honing their skills for the long summer ahead."

A bright yellow-white stretch of sand reaches into the distance, flanked
by the foaming blue line of breakers and the scrappy green mounds covered
with dune grass. Several surfers are braving the still chilly waters of
the Pacific, while a scattering of people lay sunbathing on their towels.
Swinging inland, we see another suburban street, where preparations for a
summer of gardening are taking place. The first lawnmower of spring
noisily crops the uneven winter growth of lawn, while in another front
yard an elderly woman is busy removing weeds from her rosebeds. Another
gardener stacks the debris of some pruning on to his backyard mulch heap.

"As in most cities, mid-spring sees the arrival of much colour and beauty
in the form of flowers. All varieties are grown somewhere across the
broad swathe of suburbia, and it is not hard to find areas where the
masses of vibrant new life are in abundance."

A patterned garden takes shape, showing well groomed rows of small
flowering plants. The trees behind are also showing the first signs of
coming into bloom, their tiny buds hinting at the extravagant display to
be seen in the next few weeks. Some are red, some yellow, but the most
prominent are the dusty lilac blossoms of the jacarandas. Behind the stand
of trees, a white picket fence borders a grass oval, on which a group of
children are engaged in a game of cricket. The noise and activity provides
them with fun and exercise as they abandon their footballs to get into the
spirit of the sporting season just ahead. Over on the street by the field
is a small gathering of people, perusing the items of junk found in some
family's annual spring clean and subsequent garage sale.

"And so the year passes into November, that month which preludes summer,
and sees many of its peculiarities waking up from their winter hibernation.
The weather gets much hotter and the heavy clothing of winter has by now
been dropped in favour of loose, casual wear, designed to allow the soft
breezes of the hot season to cool as much as possible. The spring horse
racing carnivals culminate in the running of the Melbourne Cup, the one
sporting event which affects people all over the country. On the same
Tuesday on which the US elects its next President, millions of Australians
will care more about which horse won a three minute race around a circular
track."

The X-window shows a roaring crowd, somewhat different from, and yet
vaguely reminiscent of, a certain scene from _My_Fair_Lady_...

"And with the approach of summer, it is quite impossible to avoid the
ever-growing avalanche of Christmas merchandising."

The city centre reappears, with shops decked out in jolly traditional
Christmas trim, quite oblivious to the fact that the shoppers are mostly
dressed in sensible short pants and light-weight, short-sleeved tops,
perhaps wearing caps or sunglasses to avoid the glare of the intense
sunlight outside. Fake snow adorns windows full of sleighs and reindeer,
despite the fact that most Sydneysiders have never seen snow and there
probably isn't a single real sleigh or reindeer in the entire country.
As we watch, the sun sets and a light rain begins to fall. A warm, steamy
rain, which slicks the streets and makes the reflections of the city
lights run and smear together. Which somehow deadens sound slightly, yet
heightens the other senses so as to make the sensation appear somewhat
unreal. It is as if you are watching a movie, from the inside...

The X-window fades and the bar lights come back up.

"Hell," says Danger Mouse. "I shouldn't write these things so darn late
at night."

- Danger Mouse.