I’m a homebody anyway, but something about a windy, rainy fall day makes me want to light a fire, wrap up in a cuddly fleece, and read an escape novel with a cup of hot chocolate.
I have always said that spring is my favorite season. Each day grows warmer, and the snow melts away. Green things start to grow and flourish, and it seems as if hope is a tangible presence in the air.
I like summer, but it always seems like everyone’s playing when I have to work. To be indoors seems almost unbearable when the sun shines warm, and fluffy white clouds float over swaying green trees.
Although winter is my least favorite season, it can be breathtakingly beautiful, when snow outlines dark leafless trees and covers the landscape in a tranquil white blanket.
This year, however, I’m gaining a new appreciation for autumn. The colors of the trees have been incredible this year- brilliant golds, scarlets, and tangerines, blended with layers of green and chocolate browns. The weather has included wonderfully warm days touching the 70s, one morning dusted with snow flakes, a few days of blustery winds, and many rainy days and nights. It makes life pleasantly unpredictable.
Will my preferences for the seasons change? I don’t know. Maybe as a grow older I am learning to appreciate the little things about the seasons and other markers of the passage of time. Some day, I’ll just be a sentimental old fool. And that’s okay.