Winter Morning in Melbourne

I woke up Friday morning, earlier than usual, right after Mark left for work. Peeled off three blanket layers in our drafty bedroom and went out to the warmer living room. Peeking between two blinds, I noticed my normal balcony view had almost completely vanished. Fog had taken its place, enveloping the landmarks I'm accustomed to. I took a quick shower and excitedly pulled on my black corduroy peacoat (new to me, but used) and pale green beanie (stocking hat); circled my favorite handmade green scarf around my neck (crocheted by Amy), grabbed my library books (The Short History of a Prince by Jane Hamilton, among others...) and stepped out into the winter morning. I immediately noticed the chill in the air and my own warm breath visibly exhaling out to merge with the rest of the world. I walked consciously, affectionately thinking of this second winter season in a row; noticing all the other hats, scarves, and coats on schoolgirls, careerwomen, businessmen, wrinkled retirees, and others making their way across Princes Bridge at 8:53 a.m. Halfway to City library, I vowed to control my book intake- last time I filled my green-gray backpack full of books and movies, vaguely aware that they would tempt me to stay in the apartment forever (a reality when one is unemployed and left alone all day). The tall tops of modern buildings in the central business district were hiding somewhere behind the fog, making me feel part of some surreal movie set. Entering the library, I slipped a book and DVD into their return slot and then wandered across the hall to the cafe, Journal, to continue my weekly Friday ritual of a flat white and accompanying sweet treat. Journal has generous, communal tables so you can sit by yourself but still feel part of the scene. Last time I came here, one middle-aged woman was streaming tears while discussing relationship problems with her middle-aged, consoling female mate. Another woman, strikingly beautiful and smartly dressed, passionately voiced frustration regarding her current job to a sympathetic colleague. She just wasn't feeling a creative drive. I ate my fresh, fruity muesli and eavesdropped. I tried not to stare. This time, I was one of several people alone, scattered around the table, reading newspapers and sipping coffee. The butter melted into my fruit toast with burnt edges and I went over my reading list. If I'm lucky there will be one book I want checked in, and a Mythbusters DVD we haven't seen yet. The Mythbusters show has become a weekly favorite since we've moved here. I walked back to the library and upstairs to the fiction, wondering how long the winter fog would last. Of course I broke my vow and came home with four books and two DVD's in the end. What a perfect morning. (The fog finally cleared off in the afternoon but eerily returned that evening).