Here Down Under, everything always feels a little bit the other way around.

While the northern hemisphere is welcoming Easter in springtime and Christmas in winter, we Australians are doing our own upside-down version of things — Christmas in summer heat, with sunburn, salads, and trips to the beach. Then Easter arrives with cooler mornings, gentler light, while autumn slowly beginning to whisper through the trees. Honestly, sometimes it feels as though the whole world is reading from one seasonal script, and we in the southern hemisphere have quietly been handed a different set of cue cards.

Apparently only about 10 percent of the world’s population lives in the southern hemisphere, so perhaps it is no wonder that scrolling Instagram can sometimes make me feel slightly outnumbered. My feed fills with people joyfully welcoming the first signs of spring — buds, daffodils, lambs, and all that tender new life — while I am over here delighting in the thought of crisp mornings, turning leaves, and finally feeling the harshness of summer begin to loosen its grip.

Even reading to my granddaughter makes me notice it. In every Easter storybook there are signs of spring, as though Easter could never possibly arrive any other way.

The bunny stories and Easter books are nearly always set in springtime. There are flower buds, little nests, pastel skies — and not a crunchy autumn leaf in sight. I am still waiting to find one Easter bunny story where he appears under a golden tree, with red and amber leaves tumbling around him. I would like to meet that bunny very much. He would feel far more familiar to me.

And it is not just Easter. There are snowmen in December while we are looking for shade, winter woollies when we are melting, and pictures of reindeer and sleighs while Australians are slicing watermelon and heading to the beach. Sometimes I think those of us in the southern hemisphere spend a fair bit of our lives translating the seasons in our heads.

It makes me smile sometimes, this upside-down life of ours.

While others are celebrating Easter with chicks and lambs, we are heading toward golden leaves and cooler days. While the storybooks insist on spring baby bunnies, outside my window autumn is quietly beginning to clear its throat.

And yet, perhaps that is part of the gift of it.

Because while the scenery around Easter may be different here, the heart of Easter remains exactly the same. It does not depend on springtime or autumn. The heart of Easter is still hope, still sacrifice, still love, still resurrection. New life is still a miracle, even if the trees around us are preparing to let go rather than bloom.

Maybe living in the southern hemisphere teaches us that meaning is not tied to one set of images. Easter can still speak in autumn colours. The truth does not change, even if the season does.

In fact, there is something quietly beautiful about hearing the Easter story in autumn. While the northern world sees new life bursting forth around them, we here in Melbourne, Australia, see leaves beginning to fall, light softening, and the earth preparing for rest — and still Easter comes and tells us that life is stronger than death. Hope is stronger than despair. Love has the final word. Perhaps we are simply invited to see the same truth through different colours.

So yes, sometimes I do feel a little out of step with the pictures in the books and the images on my screen. But I have grown to love our upside-down way of living. At the moment I am loving reaching for my cardigan in the morning. I love the relief of cooler air after summer’s harshness. I love the thought of leaves changing colour while Easter draws near.

And perhaps that is why I have grown to love our “other way around” life so much.

It reminds me that not everything has to look the same to be true, beautiful, or deeply felt.