A Season That Sings

What’s your favourite season of the year?

For me, it’s spring—without question. There’s something about Sydney in springtime that makes the world feel new again. Not in a loud or showy way, but in the quiet unfolding of beauty—one flower, one birdcall, one longer afternoon at a time.

Bushwalking becomes a joy this time of year. The skies clear, the air is just warm enough, and the wildflowers bloom in glorious defiance of winter’s retreat. Waratahs, our striking red floral emblem, begins to appear—rare in the wild now, but still protected and treasured in national parks. Their presence feels almost ceremonial, as if the bush itself is celebrating.

Alongside them come the flannel flowers—soft, star-shaped, and abundant. Though they bloom year-round, it’s in spring that they truly flourish.

And elsewhere, in gardens and over old fences, wisteria vines tumble in lilac cascades. Streets glow purple with jacaranda trees. The scent of jasmine and frangipani lingers in the air. It’s a sensory season—one you don’t just see, but smell, hear, and walk through barefoot on sun-warmed paths.

It’s not only the plants waking up. Bird hatchlings start to appear—baby lorikeets and rosellas peeking from tree hollows, testing their wings. Whale migration continues offshore. You might spot one breaching near the coastline if you’re lucky.

And of course, it’s magpie swooping season. Less charming, perhaps—but oddly nostalgic for many Australians. You learn to read the sky a little differently in September.

There’s something human happening too. Daylight saving begins, and suddenly there’s light after dinner. The days stretch, the city exhales, and people spill back into parks and beaches. It’s finals season for all the winter sports—a flurry of activity for families and fans alike. On campuses and in schools, a new energy takes hold as students ready themselves for the final stretch of the year. There’s anxiety, yes—but also momentum, as if the season itself is cheering them on.

Spring in Sydney doesn’t demand attention—it invites it. You notice more. You breathe differently. You remember how good it is to be outside.