Jazz  is softly playing in the background, as I tap away on my keyboard, trying to grasp the inspiration, the words to fashion my ideas into a story.

All earlier thoughts of pulling some weeds, repotting some plants, possibly doing some overdue and necessary housework have been intentionally deferred. In fact, they’ve evaporated. Because it’s been too blue a morning, too lusciously warm, too inviting to waste precious time doing anything other than enjoying myself. 

And so I’ve swum in the Rockpool. I’ve sipped much needed, delicious coffee. I’ve read the latest Bugle. And now I’m thinking, writing away, creating.

As the afternoon languidly creeps in, the sky outside darkens. The air touching my skin, humid  before, now starts to chill; there’s a change in the weather imminent. 

Initially, I feel rather than see the storm approaching. Soon, the clouds are heavy, threatening, and the sea has changed its colour from blue green, to slate grey. There’s a sudden low rumble of thunder, and a lightning strike out on the horizon, but as yet, no rain. 

I have always loved storms. As a child, the noise of thunder never frightened me, probably because my grandpa told me it was  God playing  Bowls. I always believed him.

As a young child I spent many hours on Bondi beach, and the very best days, the most memorable, were the stormy ones. Call us crazy, but my dad and I would stay on the beach as a storm rolled in, while the more sensible beachgoers would make a hasty exit. Dad would bundle up our stuff under a beach towel and together we’d hit the surf. We had Bondi beach to ourselves, a rare occurrence in summer. To this day, I still love swimming in the rain.

I start to think about how our memories, both good and bad, are evoked by our senses. After all, this approaching storm happening right now  in Kiama has just made me think of those blissful, rainy Bondi beach days decades ago. Memories for me , and probably for most people,  flood back when the senses are heightened.

Hearing birdsong is calming, relaxing, almost spiritual. As is the sound  of waves rhythmically lapping the shore. These sounds are beautiful to wake up to, a comfort, an affirmation of how good it is to be alive and be surrounded by nature. 

Music cues your senses. How often do you remember a person, or incident from your life , simply by hearing a certain piece of music? In my case, whenever I hear  Mozart’s Eine  Kleine Nachtmusik I  see myself back in my school hall on any given morning , Monday to Friday, for the entire  six years of my high school education. 

Because that piece was played through the speakers each morning at Assembly. Every morning for six years, or so it seemed. Needless to say, I know every note.

My favourite sound? A popping Champagne cork. I think of festivity, of Christmas with friends and family, of celebration.

How great is having the sense of smell?

Cut grass is a favourite. So too, the scent of lavender, or Star Jasmine in bloom. Growing down by the Sebel, it is intoxicating as I walk past. 

Smelling the beguiling aromas of sizzling bacon, or garlic and onion frying in olive oil, or the wafts of baking bread or brewing coffee can immediately send my tastebuds into a frenzy, and my mouth watering. As does anything deep fried, no matter how unhealthy it is. Crispy and deep fried just smell too good.

I’ll crush some Basil, or squeeze a lemon,and I’m immediately transported to Italy, to laneway tavernas, scrumptious meals and sensual walks through the lush Tuscan countryside, crushing wild herbs underfoot as I stroll along.

Similarly, the odour of fish sauce immediately brings to mind a trip to Cambodia in 2000, where we stayed for a while in Siem Reap. As a major producer of this very salty and delicious Asian condiment, the whole town of Siem Reap smells of fish sauce. Twenty six years later, whenever I’m cooking with fish sauce I think of that trip, of the magnificence of Angkor Wat , of beautiful Cambodia .

As with our other senses, the gift of sight can be magical, inspiring. Seeing the sun rise, or watching it set; the moon and stars on a very black night; the vibrant colours and textures of rainforest or bush or desert, we are blessed. 

These are the positive things I am going to focus on, the beautiful and good things, while I can.

 Life as they say in the classics, is too short.