A lot of people hate winter, especially after so many days and nights of snow and cold temperatures. People complain bitterly about it and pray for spring to get here faster.
I am not one of them. I like winter, and I believe in addition to the bad it has much good. Just like any other season. But here in New England it is a very distinct season, and not watered down at all. You get beautiful winter scenes like no other.
That’s one of the things I love most about New England: it has seasons. Four very different, very distinct seasons.
I have been asked many times if I miss the South whenever it gets bitterly cold. I answer that I miss my family and my friends. I miss having a big garden, and I miss the long growing season. But honestly, that is about it. I don’t miss the (usually) meh winters, the all-too-short autumn, and the short but wet springs. And I absolutely, positively do not miss the horrifically long, brutally humid, fry-an-egg-on-your-throbbing-head hot summers. I do not miss those one damn bit.
But anyway, back to winter. Winter is supposed to be cold. There’s supposed to be ice and snow. How else can you make snowmen and go ice skating on the frog pond? How else would sleds work? Winter was once the season of rest for farmers, a time when tools were repaired or sharpened, but otherwise a time of rest. A time when you could look back on a hard year of work and plan what to do next. A cold day makes a warm bowl of stew all the more enjoyable, and a good hot cup of coffee sublime. And curling up with a good book, and some small furry companions to warm you, and your smiling love (who has a good book of her own) to cuddle with, is one of the best things ever.
And hopefully tomorrow, we will have our Rerun back.