I have to admit, Fall and I have a love/hate relationship. I’m a summer girl. I live for the long nights, campfires, float trips, rodeos, trail rides, swimming, going barefoot, and everything else that comes with summer. I’m even OK with the sultry, hot days, and the bugs. Can’t have the good without the bad, right? And I’ll take summer however it decides to present itself.
But here’s the thing. I don’t have that attitude about winter. I loath it. I mean really, when people mention Fall to me, and talk dreamily of how beautiful and wonderful it is, I tend to roll my eyes and think “Who cares about fall, it’s only that harbinger of my old nemesis…winter…” As far as I’ve always been concerned, fall is a perfect example of guilt by association. I try to like it, but it’s just not happening for me. I’ve always been good at staying positive, and looking on the bright side. Until it comes to fall. I can’t even see the trees turning color without thinking “they’re only doing that because they’re getting ready to lose all their leaves….for winter…”