I Hate Winter

     I hate winter.  New Jersey winters are not that difficult judged by world standards, but each year they leave me housebound and dreaming about tropical climes.  I hate the dark mornings and early nights.  I shrink from the winds that burn my face.  I detest a new pristine, white snow.  A few days after it falls, it turns black at all the edges.  When the melting between storms is incomplete, one snowfall becomes a frozen base for the next layer of winter's icy insults.
     Winter is on the way, but today is a perfect autumn day.  Cool and crisp, it's jacket weather, my favorite time of the year.  I decided to take the dog to Long Bridge Park.  As we walk, I notice that the trails have narrowed.  The vegetation has flourished this past summer, and it closes in on the walkways, but vines and shrubs have lost their summer vibrancy.  The plants still stand tall, but their crowning glory of flowers has turned wispy and flyaway.  Once winter arrives, these plants will retreat to the earth, seemingly gone.
     Gone, but only until spring arrives.  The plants will return, and so will my good humor.  I'll forget about winter.  I'll revel in the warm days, the greening grass, and the tender sprouts uncurling, breaking the ground's surface.  I'll visit the park in the mornings or evenings until the leaves thicken and block out the sun, and the mosquitoes take over the cool, dark spaces beneath the trees.
     I'll walk in the park during the sunniest hours throughout the summer.  If I walk with Mike, we'll take the trail to the Rancocas Creek where we will hold hands and watch the tide flow.  Sometimes we'll walk to the blinds on the most remote trails and wait for a deer or a fox.  If none shows up, Mike will kiss me, just so standing in a hidden place won't be wasted.  As summer ends, I look forward to fall, my favorite time of the year, and banish any thoughts of the winter that will follow.
     I hate winter, but I love the cycle of the seasons.  The 75/25 ratio of delight to misery is probably right.  There's just enough cold to appreciate the thaw, just enough white to make the green so welcome.  Those extra hours of darkness force me to rest and reflect.  I can use the winter season to deepen my roots and draw nourishment for the times ahead.  In the spring, with another year behind me, I'll hopefully be better and wiser.