I’ve always been one of the few Michiganders I know to actually appreciate the fact that we live in the midwest and get the pleasure of experiencing four distinctly different seasons each year. Many people I know are die hard warm weather people. They would pick summer over winter, spring, or fall any day. They long for the few months of sunshine, heat and humidity that we experience here in the big mitten. Winter to them might as well be a curse.
I, on the other hand, really enjoy having four seasons. There is something so exciting about watching the leaves change from green to delicious shades of crimson, gold and copper. It’s as if poetry comes to life when those same leaves fall to the ground and make way for the dusting of powdery snow that touches just the tops of tree branches and blankets every road, lawn and rooftop with a sparkling white glow. Then, to watch the snow melt away revealing the fresh green buds of spring and the cheerful colors of tulips and daffodils is like getting a glimpse of heaven. The pretty spring foliage eventually bows to make way for bright hot sunshine and days that seem never-ending to take center stage. It all seems like a song that would simply be incomplete had even one of the four verses been left out.
On a less poetic note however, I am getting sick and tired of never ending gray slush that seems to be abundant at every street corner, in every parking lot, and somehow always creeping up the back of my pant legs!