You may call it Fall…
…while I’ve always known it as Autumn. Either way, Sydney is in the throes of a rather superb time of it. The season, that is.
Toes are still getting about town in sandals, all footloose and fancy free. Warm breezes ruffle the frangipani trees, surprising them out of their pre-Winter wind-down; maybe they’re thrilled – or miffed, “I gotta keep blooming?”
It actually feels like Autumn has fallen out of its routine.
And this may be a stretch but… I think there’s a link between the splintering of an expected weather pattern and those Groundhog Days you and I can get caught up in. You know when days just seem to blend into one? You’re standing still. You’ve hit a lull. It’s a snooze-fest. There’s a reason why lullabies are hummed to babes at bedtime.
So, how can you wake up your days and rouse the passion projects stuck in a coma while you chase your tail paying bills, catching trains, meeting deadlines? I’m bored. And no, buying yet another jet black, sequin-strewn mini dress ain’t it because sometimes in ridiculously rare circumstances, shiny garb will not diffuse the doldrums.
Ugh. That hurt to admit.
The only way to rip open a routine is to move. Make the scary call. Take the leap of faith. Do anything. Something. Disrupt stuff. It’s the only way to beat the humdrum.
And those sparkly minis?
They’re built to shine up a storm when you shake yo’ ass in ’em.
© Phyllis Foundis 2026