Jellyfish & Jacarandas

Summer officially began on December 1st, though Melbourne eased into it slowly. 

 

The purple jacarandas peaked mid-month.

 

The ongoing jellyfish bloom has made ocean swimming a challenge for me. Lion's mane and blubber jellies deliver relatively mild stings, though the larger ones are still intimidating to encounter in the water. Blue bottles are another story—more painful and harder to avoid. Floating on the surface with a little sail, they're driven almost entirely by the wind. Offshore winds push them away from the coast, which is why beaches are often clearer after northerlies. If you are stung, skip the vinegar: rinse with seawater, then treat with hot water.

 

A 6-km training swim on the Mornington Peninsula was good fun, but we are all hoping for better conditions in the new year.

The end of year is a busy time at work, so Tom and I penciled in a couple nights out. We joined friends Nadia and Ryan for a candlelight ballet at Collingwood Town Hall, where a string quartet performed Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, and The Nutcracker. 

 

The following weekend, we went to see The Nutcracker ballet at Princess Theatre with Jorge and Katya.

On the summer solstice, the sun reached its highest point in the sky, with nearly 15 hours of daylight. From this moment, the light has already begun its slow turn back. Like many changes in life, it is almost imperceptible at first. In time, we begin to notice. 

Across the world, this day has long been honored as a time of strength and fullness. In mythology, the sun stands at its most powerful before beginning its gradual descent—a reminder that abundance always carries change within it.

 

A swim mate reminded me that this is the perfect time to acknowledge the year so far: what has grown, what has come to fruition, and what is ready to change. The solstice is a quiet pivot—a moment to pause at the height of flight and make space for awareness, gratitude, and the natural rhythm of change.

Victoria State Rose Garden

Melburnians have just endured their coldest spring in 30 years! Unseasonably wet, cool, and grey, yet still with long days and high UV. 

 

A month after Tom and I moved into our new rental, the owner hired a contractor to replace the urine-stained floorboards in the living area. We moved all the furniture into the bedroom and office, barricaded the cats in, and I worked from the library for the day.

When I came home, I discovered they’d only replaced about half of the stained boards. I was devastated. The house smelled of freshly sanded and sealed timber, so I couldn’t tell whether the dog odor underneath was still lingering. In a mild panic, I began dousing the remaining stains with enzyme cleaner and bought a couple of air purifiers—both have helped.

It feels good to finally settle in, but it's hard to accept that the house may never feel properly clean to me. And the way the property manager handled the situation was completely unprofessional.  

Unforunately, the whole saga has cast a long shadow over our move. I miss the old house and neighborhood—the pool, the easy grocery runs, the vibe. Everything feels further away now that we’re deeper into the suburbs.

 

Friends and family have encouraged me to remember why we moved and focus on what we like: being able to walk to the beach, the wide streets, the reduced traffic, the novelty of exploring a new area. And apart from the urine situation, the house is perfect.

Outside of work, I've started training for two swim events in February.

I've been swimming at Carnegie pool a couple times a week, plus ocean sessions with the SwimWell squad and the Seagals—a welcoming group of mostly older women who swim at Elwood and Brighton beaches.

I'm learning that storm runoff after poor weather reduces the water quality. It’s not great for swimming (it's dirty and visibility drops), and it also attracts jellyfish—mainly lion’s mane and blubber (stinging but non-lethal). Apparently they haven’t been bad the past two years, so this is new to me. And yes, I’m still in a wetsuit in December. A very different season from last year!

On a brighter note, I took myself to the Victoria State Rose Garden. 

 

Melbourne's roses typically bloom from October to May, with big flushes in November and March.

 
 

I was also excited for jacaranda season. These purple canopies can be found throughout the city, but I found quite a few in Albert Park—easily my new favorite neighborhood!