I have a theory. Actually being of a philosophical bent I have many theories, most of them sound, but some possibly bordering on nutjobbery, so let’s keep this narrowed to just the one for now.

My theory is that people identify best with the season in which they were born. I am a Christmas Day baby, so I have always had a thing about summer. I love long lazy summer days by the pool or at the beach. I have summer playlists on my iPod. I adore those books promoted as “light summer reads”. The sound of cicadas is like music to my ears. There is no smell more delicious than the combination of salt water and sunscreen.

And yet, I find that I am growing increasingly fond of winter. Perhaps it is age catching up with me, but I am enjoying  cocooning indoors during the colder months.  Maybe it is because our winters here in Newcastle are pleasantly mild. When I lived in Germany, I found the late autumn and winter depressing. Snow delighted me at first, especially when I could sit in my bedroom window and watch the flakes fall onto the garden next door, but I soon learned to loathe the stuff. Struggling into boots and parkas is all very well for a week of skiing in that relatively small patch of real winter  that we Australians call The Snow. When snow, sleet, frost and ice have to be conquered just to get to the mailbox, then the novelty soon wears off.  Daylight is only glimpsed for several hours, and three and five year olds can become like caged beasts without enough room to run. For the record, so can 18 year old Australian au pairs.

But twenty years later, I think I might actually enjoy a bit of time in a real winter. And this faux-winter that we get here? Superb! I spent the weekend on the sidelines of soccer fields and netball courts, basking in the sun while my kids played. Sure it’s not always this nice,  but it’s mostly glorious weather we have here.  And I still get to indulge in my favourite things about winter:

Tea and toast – sweet, strong milky tea and white toast dripping with butter. Is there anything better?

Tracky daks, cardies and fuzzy socks – My lazy day uniform. Just try being strenuous in those clothes!

Scarves – Oh how I love scarves! They dress up t-shirts and jeans, they keep your neck warm, they add a dash of colour to a utilitarian wardrobe. Plus they’re all I know how to knit.

Snuggly cats – even the most surly of moggies becomes a ball of affectionate warmth in winter. Sure he’s just using me for body heat, but his double-thick winter coat and rumbling purr is pure contentment.

Casseroles and soups – I am the soup queen, mainly because even I can’t go wrong when the instructions are “bung it all in a pot”. If high school science labs  got rid of the pipette and the petrie dish and brought back the cauldron, I would have got a much better mark in Chemistry. Just sayin’.

What are your favourite things about winter? Plus – lets test my theory – are you a summer or winter baby? Which season do you like best?

Last week I had a couple of those random twitter experiences that get your mind working. First Susan at Reading Upside Down outed me as the intrepid children’s book sleuth when Rebecca Newman (@_boobook_ ) was hunting for a book she had read as a child. (You can read about how we did here at her blog. )  I do possess mad googling skillz, and was one of those kids who read every book in the library, so this was a labour of love. Susan knew about my fondness for such pursuits when I helped her sister rediscover the Green Knowe series. Like Rebecca, she could only recall certain aspects of the book – a boy called Tolly, ghosts of children and an old mansion. Her description rang a bell, and we were both excited to find the books and reread them.

Then I had a lovely chat with several folks about the Australian childrens’ books Bottersnikes and Gumbles. It was fun to see how many of us Australians (of a certain age) recalled such details about a series that never reached the dizzying heights of renown as Snugglepot & Cuddlepie or Blinky Bill. They obviously made an impact on us in our young reading years.

So here are a few more books from my childhood that I recall with incredible fondness, yet aren’t often listed in the classics that we ensure we set aside for our own children.

When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit – Judith Kerr

I think I read this as my brother was reading it in his class a year ahead. The story of a young Jewish girl (the author herself) who fled Nazi Germany with her family, it was my first real introduction to the Holocaust and the history of World War 2. Before then Hitler was just a name of a bad guy that sometimes got thrown my way at school because my family came from Germany.  Since that first reading at around ten years of age, I have sought out many books on the subject, both fiction and non-fiction. My own daughter has just finished Morris Gleitzman’s beautiful Once and Then, which like When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit is told from the perspective of a child.

The Cay – Theodore Taylor

I remember the feel and the cover of this book (not the one pictured) quite strongly for some reason. The edition I read seemed quite new – although at the time (around 1982) it was already over twelve years since it’s publication. It’s possible that it just wasn’t one of those books that kids are drawn to, but it has stayed with me, although I haven’t read it since. I remember the cat and the eventual friendship between Phillip and Timothy, and how they looked after eachother when stranded on the Cay.

Island of the Blue Dolphins – Scott O’Dell

I must have been going through a “stranded on an island” phase, because I’m sure I read this around the same time as I read The Cay. Actually, now that I think about it, we may have been doing a theme of that kind in our library lessons that year, and I was always the good girl who read every book! Animals always featured strongly in the books that I loved, and I remember crying as I read about Rontu the dog (wolf?) in this story.

The Phantom Tollbooth - Norton Juster

Now here’s a great story, that people just look at me strangely when I tell them about it. I have no idea why it isn’t better known because it is so much fun to read.  My brother and I had a copy, which I first read at a very young age, when I was probably too young to understand all the clever puns and wordplays. I read it recently with my ten-year-old son, and he delighted in the story of Milo, who travels through the Phantom Tollbooth to the magical lands of Dictionopolis and Digitopolis to rescue the princesses Rhyme and Reason.

A Little Bush Maid – Mary Grant Bruce

If one side of my heritage led me to reading holocaust and world war two fiction, the other side has given me a deep and abiding love for stories set in the Australian bush. Although idyllised and very much a product of their time with regards to the representation of aboriginal and chinese Australians (and I understand they have since been edited to change this), the Billabong series of books were captivating stories for a young city girl who thought living on horseback and camping out under the stars was a wonderful life indeed. It was also fun to read classic books with a female protagonist that were still ‘ripping yarns’ and full of adventure.

Do any of these books ring a bell with you? What other less-commonly-known children’s books do you recall from your own childhood? Or do you have a book mystery you’d like me to try and solve?