Verdant
As horrid as the winter is, spring is something to appreciate after all the hassle and cold. In the early part of the year I took a walk on the path by the river when it was dry: no snow but a blanket of light brown by leafless trees that only seemed to add to the desolate, cold feeling.
Today it seems fertile - only the beginnings of a warm, wet spring.
The river, on my first walk, was a frozen on the edges.
Now it flows.
It's strange to think of how I conceived life before this; everywhere I've lived there has been little variation of seasons. I wonder what effect seasonal weather has on the temperament other than a better tolerance for the extremities of hot and cold. We're all used to the metaphors of winter and summer, but when winter really does mean you stay couped inside and spring really means that you watch things come to life, the cycle must have some impact.
I wonder.
I don't wonder, however, about the seasons I prefer.
8:31:06 PM 
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