When a great big anticyclone parks overhead for days on end, my thoughts turn to the beach, and our wee beach house that has been mostly empty for ages.
Somehow, we don't seem to get down there in the winter.
It's not because of the howling wind that whips up sand along the beaches: that goes right over the top of the crib and leaves our sheltered back yard alone.
And it's not because of the winter cold: we've got a good log fire and a supply of dry wood, and we can be warm as toast in no time.
It's something to do with the short days, and us not arriving until 5pm or so.
By the time the car is unpacked and the fire lit, there's no point taking a walk along the beach in the freezing winter dark.
I've tried, but there's nothing to be seen.
Sometimes we manage to get there around 4pm, light the fire then take my sister's boys to the beach.
Whether the boys insist it's warm enough to swim (it takes less than two minutes for a pink child to go blue in the winter waves) or we hide behind rocks to watch the penguins waddle ashore, we stay until it's almost too dark to see then head for the crib, where the fire keeps things toasty and we can brush the sand out of our hair.
Some hot food and a few rounds of Monopoly round off the evening nicely.
But summer suits the crib best - morning strolls on the beach to see what the tide has carried in; a good book and a snooze in the sun after lunch; a spot of fishing if the tide is right; cooking something other than fish for tea and telling tales of the one that got away; evenings spent sipping wine and sorting out the fishing gear ready for the big catch we'll get next day, sea lions permitting.
There are rocks and giant sandhills to climb, waves for bodysurfing and mudflats for crab-catching.
And there's lovely white sand baking in the sun, just waiting for us to plonk down and rest our weary bones while we watch the children play and the waves roll in.
But first I have work to do. The beach section is decidedly unkempt.
It's beyond a lawnmower - the scrub bar is definitely called for.
Just one afternoon of chomping down weeds and the crib will be open for summer trade. Surf's up, dudes!