The Joy of Seasons

psx_20161031_215551Anyone who has spent time with me knows that I like to talk about the weather.

Hang around long enough; you’re going to get a full weather report. Most of the time it’s just an acknowledgment that it’s too hot or cold outside. Sometimes it’s the exact start time of a forecasted storm. And other times it’s more along the lines of, “there’s a freak snowstorm coming, and the world’s going to end.” (Weather also makes me overdramatic)

If you’ve listened to me complain about the temperature, you might think I hate seasonal changes. It’s a fair assumption. I’ve been very open about the fact that harsh winters were a major factor in my decision to leave Massachusetts. And I’ve been known to wax poetic about the winters of my childhood, where the thermostat only occasionally dipped below a crisp 50 degrees.

But honestly, I love seasons. I love the way they mark the passage of time. I love how cold winters give me an excuse to drink hot chocolate and hide under the covers, and I love how hot summers give me a reason to sip sangria and stay out until 10 pm on a work night.

And fall? Fall is the best season of all.

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