Generally speaking, I like living in a climate with four distinct seasons. I like the beautiful flowers of Spring, the fact that it’s warm enough in Summer to go swimming and walk out of my house without bothering to put on shoes, and I always enjoy the brilliant foliage of Fall. Winter begins just before Christmas, which is my absolute favorite holiday, and also provides snowfalls that are both beautiful and peaceful. The changing seasons give each year a pattern that is both predictable and comforting.
Of course, each season also has a downside. Spring’s pollen makes me miserable for weeks, Summer always has a stretch of unbearably high humidity, and Fall means shorter days and ragweed. And while Winter certainly has its own beauty, it also brings dangerously cold temperatures, icy roads and sidewalks, and air so dry it seems to suck the moisture out of every living thing. But as far as I’m concerned, the absolute worst part of Winter is that it never knows when to leave.
If seasons were people, Winter is the distant aunt who shows up on your doorstep bearing cookies and a great big suitcase, and who is still installed in your guest room long after you’re ready for her to go. It’s the friend who sticks around for hours after the party is ended and doesn’t seem to notice your yawns and pointed glances at the front door. It’s the time-share salesman who lures you into his office with tons of freebies before launching into a never-ending sales pitch. Winter looks good when it first arrives, what with its sparkling landscapes and blankets of snow, but no other season manages to overstay its welcome quite like Winter.
Which is probably why I am now writing my annual, “I’m sick of Winter” blog post. I’ve managed to cover most of the details over the years: the static electricity, the frozen nose hair, the aching muscles from shoveling snow, constantly cleaning the floors because the salt on the outside steps keeps getting tracked in, and the need to put on several layers of clothes simply to take the trash out. And I’ve mentioned a certain dog who persists in believing the frozen treats he finds (and tries to eat) in the back yard are chocolate popsicles, and often refuses to go outside altogether if he thinks it’s too cold. But this year brought yet another annoying revelation: if you drop your white face mask in the snow, chances are that you aren’t going to find it until the Spring thaw.
So even though I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: it’s time for Winter to be over. It’s time for the arctic blast that has gripped our country to go away, and let us begin to thaw out in peace. We want to retire our snow shovels, put away the rock salt, and pack away our heavy coats until next year. We’re not asking for any miracles, we just want it to warm up enough that we can once again get together with friends and family in our backyards, and even cook the occasional burger on our grills. Not to mention quit worrying about frozen pipes and electricity outages.
In other words, “Winter, winter go away! Come again another day!” (And please make that day far, far, into the future……)