I remember when I went home, Christchurch to Cleveland, for a month in 1997, around April-May. It was getting autumnier, even wintrier, no wait, spring again, springier, oh, wait, now back to wintrier. This was much more confusing than moving to New Zealand – I flew out on 21 December, and going from the depth of winter to the height of summer was an easy transition. Annoyingly, Sam's parents had put that fake frost on their windows for me. I wanted to say, "No, you have your own weather down here and I like it, too!" but I refrained, to be a good guest.