Winter didn't wait for December 21st this year. Oh no. It's here and it's chilly. For those of you familiar with Northern winters or the should be uninhabitable settings, bear in mind I write from Georgia. For us, this is COLD. And I love it. Always have.
This morning, though, I started wondering why I esteem winter above hot, sticky Southern summers. Here's the situation: I was out running at ten after six. My face went numb in about thirty seconds and it was then I began to question my fervor for the icy air. As I ran, I gradually warmed. Then it hit me. It's not the chill I've loved about this season, but the measures we take to make ourselves comfortable in it. Fires, sweaters, hot chocolate, tea, stews, wool socks, hoodies, blankets, cider, boots, overly-cheerful music, cinnamon, Christmas--it's these things I find appealing in their juxtaposition to colder temperatures and stark landscape. When the outside world slips from fall abundance and smoldering colors into white and gray, we decorate it. With Christmas lights, for instance. You gotta love that about people.
