Southward Memories: The Origins of a Love Affair with Winter

Before I ever sold a single woolly thing, I was in love with winter.

As the school holidays roll around I am remembering all the trips back home to NZ with my kids. It's been quite a few years since I had to make that tiring pilgrimage with little ones in tow. They're older now and in fact not even living at home. But starting from when my oldest child was a baby we made the trip to New Zealand in July or August. Escaping the heat of summer was always my main priority. We travelled back almost every year - to winter.

Obviously New Zealand is in the grips of winter right now - my mother complains that it rains every day. "It's pouring" she texts. I might be a 'bring the sun' kind of person because I don't feel like it rained much when we used to visit. 

Touching down in Auckland (when it's not raining) I'm usually blown away by how green everything is. There are grassy verges, trees, council plantings, rolling paddocks and gardens everywhere. 

Perhaps it's the expansive feeling of being on holiday but it feels bright and easy in New Zealand. Open with possibilities. The cold does not bother me one bit. The warmth of being surrounded by family is probably the main reason why.

That's kind of funny to me, that I am not bothered by the cold. As a child I lived for summer. The bleakness of winter is barely imprinted on my memories of childhood. We enjoyed a family holiday at Easter, nine times out of ten ruined by a cold snap as autumn showed up. Then it was into winter. 

Daffodil Day is in late August. Bright yellow daffodils are sold on street corners and at the exit of the supermarket to raise funds for cancer research. Daffodils herald the beginning of spring don't they? Winter is over in a flash.

In the olden days we still had three terms. That meant the break between the second and third term was during winter so we had 'winter school holidays' back then. Every couple of years my sister and I would travel south to visit my Nana and aunties in Hawkes Bay. 

I remember Hawkes Bay winters to be stunning. I love the crisp coldness, the smell of wood-burning fireplaces in the air, waking up to frost on the grass. Mum or nana might have knitted me some wool slippers. I'd definitely have been wearing a wool jumper and down jackets didn't exist then so I had a wool coat for a while. 

Perhaps my love of winter was born then. I absolutely loved staying with my Nana. But I was a summer-loving girl at least until my children were born. I think summers have become more and more unbearable as I have gotten older (and let's face it, climate change is making it worse too). 

There’s a certain smell and feel to the air — early morning, the open window above my bed in early winter — that always takes me back to my grandmother’s home in Havelock North. In this post, I follow those memories southward, and realise I love all the seasons, each in their own way. Winter might be an acquired taste but I am ok with that.