I think the majority of us here on Four Foxes, One Hound are from the south.
I’m no exception. For me, the best part of the year is around November because that’s usually when the cooler weather heads our way. When you spend seven of the year trying to figure out creative ways to cool off because the temperatures are hot enough to melt the skin from your bones, you tend to appreciate every cool snap that comes your way. I’m not saying I want several feet of snow or anything, but how un-festive is it to wear shorts at Christmas? To be wearing flip-flops while the rest of the country is bundled up in parkas? Yeah, try getting in the Christmas spirit then.
Maybe Hollywood has ruined us, but for me it doesn’t feel like Christmas unless it’s at least fifty degrees outside. Now. When I was a kid I loved warm Decembers because it meant I could take my brand new toys outside and play with them. I’m older now and I want to see that almost alien landscape of trees bare of leaves, to see snow on the ground. To go absolutely insane when it falls and instigate a snowball fight with my siblings.
So yes, I love winter. I love not sweating for a few months every time I step outside. I love knowing my deodorant will last longer than usual because of my lack of sweat. I like burrowing under my covers because it’s too chilly to get out of bed. I love going outside at night and walking over the frost-crusted ground, listening to it crunch beneath my feet. And I love the anticipation of watching the weather to see “Is this going to be the year we get snow?”