Two days of warmth and happiness amid two months of ice cold pain and suffering.
I hate winter. With a burning passion, so hot that you would think it might keep me warm. But alas, winter is so desolate and dead and bitterly cold that fire of my hatred toward it is rendered ineffective.
However, I realized recently that there is a part of winter that I greatly enjoy. That is the rare but guaranteed flirt with springtime. These lovely little bursts are the closest I come to appreciating the contrastive benefit of Winter. Most people say that spring and summer would be worthless without something to base them off of. I think this is a load of crap, in the (paraphrased) words of Hazel from The Fault in Our Stars, the existence of broccoli in no way effects the taste of ice cream.
I don’t enjoy Spring because I’m comparing it to winter, I enjoy spring because it is accelerating to the greatness of summer. However, these occasional bursts of warmth are not leading up to anything. They are enjoyable almost exclusively because they are better than the alternative. This past day was 65 degrees, and the day before was warm and sunny as well. Last week was so cold that sodas we kept in the garage were filled with ice crystals. Immediately following this harsh cold and the snow accompanying it, was a lively and heated pair of days. I took runs and bike rides to enjoy them and even took this pretty picture which won me a post on my friends blog.
And now it rains through the night, signifying those days’ end. It will soon be cold and snowing once again, and we will commence with February. Which no matter what all the calendars in all the world say, is absolutely the longest month of the year.