In these parts, winter is a cool customer.
It's not always easy to tell when Jack Frost has arrived in this temperate enclave. But, to help newbies draw a line in the sand, here are a few hints.
Sand is a good place to start. The wind brings sound and fury to the east coast. Actually, that should be the sound of fury.
Unlike 'Old Man Yells at Cloud', 'Odd Novocastrian Yells at Wind' is not going to get you pop culture status.
It's going to get you a mouth full of grit.
On a wintry beach, no one can hear you choke (while swearing like a wharfie).
Another sure sign the cold has arrived in the Hunter is news footage of a kiddie furiously creating a snow angel before the white stuff melts into the dirt.
The snow angel (cousin of the sand angel) is rarely seen in these parts, but a chorus might magically appear along the access road to Barrington Tops any time now.
Surely, frostbitten extremities would have been of greater concern?
I know this as I did the snow angel run back in the 70s as part of the great Novocastrian tradition of travelling to the mystic winter wonderland somewhere near Jindabyne.
The first time I saw snow it was thrilling. I was about nine or 10 and my parents had packed my brothers and me into the VW for a jaunt to the snowfields, via Canberra.
In the 70s, it was easy to identify a suburban NSW kid at the snow. They were the ones fashioning snowmen out of dirty snow, broken sticks and vegetation stolen from the mouths of resident wombats.
They were also the ones wearing jeans. Remember, this was before Aldi arrived with its family snow-wear specials.
Kids today will never know the abject misery of sitting in freezing, sodden strides as your parents debated the safest way to get back to the motel in Cooma without snow chains.
It's strange how my mum's grim warning that I would get a chill in my kidneys if I didn't wear a long enough singlet in the winter didn't apply to wearing glacial jeans (and undies). Surely, frostbitten extremities would have been of greater concern?
Doctor, do we need to amputate?
Talking about amputation, a good indicator that winter has arrived in this wide brown land is killing season in Canberra.
When June rolls around, the nation settles back with a hot toddy to watch the drama unfold. But this year's episode was a massive surprise.
Like being whacked from behind by a snow-boarder on a slippery slope in Thredbo, I was blindsided by Barnaby Joyce's return to prominence.
Does anyone know when the next Aldi snow-wear specials are on? I'll need a solid pair of ski pants to weather this storm.
It appears hell has frozen over.
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