I laughed when I looked at today’s Daily Prompt. It asks about the changing seasons.
In my corner of the world, the calendar declares it to be spring. Spring is the warm-up act to summer, the prelude. However, Spring has yet to grace us. Winter is clinging on, bitterly and stubbornly.
I believe the season is trying to ensure we get as much rain and cold as possible, as if Winter realised a deadline was running out. In this past week I’ve had to wear sunglasses, an autumn coat, boots, jeans and carry an umbrella. Most of the day today was threatening to rain, but the few drops of water were ambitionless specks that went nowhere and did nothing.
Even as I write, I hear wind gusting and earlier it rained quite heavily. I don’t much care for summer: it’s too bright. I prefer gray skies and potential for rain, as it’s the more cozy weather.
October is proving thus far a confusing hybrid of autumn and spring, without much of the warmth, and I eagerly anticipate the winter. So, I suppose it’s safe to say I’d rather stay in winter.