I love living somewhere where the seasons change. I love spring and fall the most but I also love to complain about the heat of summer and the cold of winter.
Spring always brings to me a new hope for excitement- a fresh beginning. Near the end of winter I start looking at the trees to see if I see any inkling of budding, and I look in the grass to see if the crocus are about to stick their heads up through the frost.
When I see these, I began to get a little bit excited because I know spring is on the way and with the spring comes new birth and with a new birth comes promises of all sorts of magical things to happen; the promise of a positive future.
There are times when I wish for one season or a modified season where the temperatures vary between no colder than 40 and no hotter than 78 and the humidity stays somewhere around 30% year round. That would be such a wonderful wonderful climate, but I’m pretty sure somewhere down the line I would find it boring.
There would be no looking forward to spring, no suffering through summer, nor the excitement of fall knowing that Thanksgiving and Christmas are just around the corner based on the change in the season. No complaining about the cold and damp and dullness of winter- the season of death; knowing that spring is just around the corner.
So I guess I have to say spring is my favorite season, although I love the colors and the smells of fall. But fall brings a foreboding of things to come that are dormant and fairly neutral in shade. So, yes, I love living where the seasons change, where there’s always a possibility of something else just around the corner.