When you wake up to a foot of snow in November or December, or even January, it's wonderful, beautiful, and magical.
It's glorious to get out and hike in the crisp air of a winter wonderland...
...to appreciate the changed landscape...
...and welcome seasonal visitors.
Yes, winter has its rightful time and place and it has a beauty and wonder all its own. I like it very much. Even a winter with so much snow it's taller than I am and I nearly lose my mailbox.
Yes, waking up to a foot of snow on November 27, or December 27 is awesome. January 27, okay. But waking up to a foot of snow on February 27 is depressing and maddening. There comes a time when enough is too much!
Especially when baseball season is imminent. When the snow finally melts (and brings flooding, but it's progress) and you see grass for the first time in a long time, you're just done with winter. And then you wake up to a new foot of snow. And then that melts and a couple of days later you wake up to another 6-inch blanket. Depressing and maddening.
Looking out my window today I see just a few patches of the once magical whiteness. For the first time in MONTHS there isn't so much as a hint of a possibility of snow in the two-week forecast. So, farewell, Winter. I hope.