I Don’t Mind the Snow

I don’t mind the snow. It looks like the sky celebrating—tossing down flakes like rice at a wedding—or like celebratory confetti. Indeed, it will turn to ice or slush, but first it’s new, a clean blanket of white covering the earth and making everything look pure and soft.

I don’t mind the cold. At it’s worst it makes me appreciate the cozy. I can enjoy the sharpness in the air because I know my home’s warmth is waiting to surround me. Winter’s winds keep me alert. Autumn’s chill fills my mind with thoughts. Sometimes I miss the sun, but breathing in crisp air leaves me invigorated and ready to work.

I don’t mind the heat. The Caribbean climate is in my blood. Forced to choose, I’d rather be hot than cold. I like feeling warm to my bones. Let the summer sun shine. Let it illuminate everything and accentuate the colors of life. I’ll admit that sweating is inconvenient, but to me sunshine is good medicine.

I don’t mind the rain. It’s a lullaby at night. Showers bring the flowers that make spring such a visual delight. During a deluge, the earth smells cleansed and renewed. Plus, puddles are only a problem when I’m wearing the wrong shoes.

Certainly each season has its inconveniences—its particular weather woes. But none of those small annoyances stop me from loving each one. I like having seasons. Each offers something good to anticipate. And it fascinates me how much the weather can change—sometimes in the course of a week, month, or just a day.

I like the variety and the rhythm of moving through winter, spring, summer, and autumn. I wouldn’t want a year of uniform weather any more than I’d want a friend with only one emotion.

 

Snow Angels

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