The dreamer in me loves every season. The realist knows life is better in the summer. I do do winter though. Me and the cold know something about each other, like on horrendous wet days splashing around in the streets when the foul weather reflects my inner gloom, or all the solitary walks through snow I use to cultivate quietness of mind.
Then spring comes and life's just a grand fucking party.
THINGS I FORGET ABOUT IN THE WINTER
Sleeping with the window open.
Sunday mini-ramp sessions.
Feeling fresh air against the freckles on my arm.
Enough daylight after work for the pursuit of happiness.
That BBQ smell.
Bicycles as transportation.
Doing nothing and feeling good.
The warm air currents—a love letter from the sun.