The first flakes of snow sprinkled down today. It wasn't much at all, not even measurable, and it melted as soon as it touched ground, but it was snow all the same.
I like winter. It's quiet and dead and people don't care that you're not out and about all the time. However, the roads are sometimes next to impossible to navigate; last year the city ran out of salt for the roads (no kidding). And there's something about snow before Halloween that irks me.
My brothers and I used to build snow forts as soon as there was enough snow on the ground. And sometimes we'd try even when there wasn't.
Spring and autumn are very short where I live- most years, they're less of a season in their own right than a transition between winter and summer or summer and winter. There is something exciting about these transitions, be it a foreign breeze or strange smells and tastes. It makes one anticipate what's to come, I guess.
A lot of people complain about how dreary winter is, but I like it. Perhaps that's because the weather suits my mood, for it's only been these last few years that I've especially enjoyed the season.