It wasn't a particularly cold morning but it had rained overnight so I could forgive the smoke curling from the chimney three days before Anzac Day. Like many Australians, I was taught one didn't light a fire or turn on the heater until April 25 - an arbitrary and silly rule dads of a certain age liked to enforce.

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While no fan of wood smoke, I did appreciate the cosiness of the scene. There was something childishly appealing, almost hobbit-like about it. It reminded me that winter does have its charms, not the least being the retreat into warm interiors and quiet pursuits.

If summer is bright and brash, winter closes in with a hush. In a busy world, it's a stillness worth savouring.

In the long nights, salads make way for hearty soups, casseroles (my mother-in-law's French-style beef with a hint of orange zest is a favourite) and weekend roasts. For drinkers, the crisp Chablis of summer yields to bold Shiraz and the warm inner glow it confers.

Shorts and T-shirts are put away; it's the season for woolly jumpers, comfortable corduroy and flannelettes and, if you're lucky, that old Harris tweed sports coat. Toes curl in thick socks. The cuddly throws come out. Blankets and doonas return to make sleep so much easier.

Compared to other countries, Australia's winters are only ever fleeting - and they seem to be getting shorter with each passing year. Where I live, the chill begins in May, settles through June and July and lifts in August, often with the help of fierce winds. By September, the buds are back on the trees and come October we're sweating again.

I'm more naturally a summer person but this year I'm making a special effort to welcome winter and embrace it.

For those fresh morning walks, I'll adhere to the dictum that there is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing, unlike an old friend who insists on wearing shorts all winter while complaining about the cold. Exiled through summer, the........

© Canberra Times